A World of Darkness Book II: Strained Passage
by Souless666
Summary: The search for the Keys continue as others are drawn in to the brother's circle and new revelations come to light, both mystical and personal. Main characters: Mark Calaway aka the Undertaker, Glen Jacobs aka Kane, Jeff and Matt Hardy.
1. Perspective

**Disclamier: **Yeah figured I'd have to do one for the new book. What's Vince is Vince's what's mine and is mine and I think we both know which is which.

**A/N: **_Well folks I finally got the first part of book 2 done. I'll admit it's short, and sorry for that, but as with the chapters from Book 1, I stopped when it felt right and adding more would be like shoe horning an elephant into a phone both. I will make all effort to have the next chapter up within the week so ya don't have to wait too long to get going again following the wacky adventures of Mark, Kane and the Hardy Boyz. LOL_

_Ok maybe they aren't all that wacky. ;)_

_Anyway, you've waited long enough, on to Book II!_

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_What is the measure of a man that has no measure?_

_Where is his strength when power is his being?_

_What is the bane to a weakness that is not there?_

_What blocks his path when all roads are his to travel?_

_Where is the unsolvable riddle for a mind that fathoms the universe?_

_The Soul_

_The Mind_

_The Body_

_The Spirit_

_The Will_

_This is the Yau Ma Gar, The Being of Beings._

_Should he rise, the End of not just Days will come, and the True Darkness will Reign._

Words in a book on a stand in a library few know of, and none may enter save at the owner's permit. An owner who now reclines in a chair, a stand baring candles his only illumination, his eyes on a far different tome then the one those cryptic, yet foretelling words now reside.

With occasion this man's eyes, whose frame hints, still, of a much portlier time, would drift secretively to a darkened corner of the massive book lined room. When he did a small frown would crease his lips before returning to the pursed position they had become accustomed to since the man had begun his studies. Many thoughts warred within the mind of this, many times, despised man. Thoughts he made sure to veil against intrusion. These thoughts were his and his alone, and would spell disaster should they be known to any, especially that which skulked in the shadows of his library. He had plans, and his plans did not necessarily mirror those of another. He was a master manipulator and he required all his skill in that area if he would see all his schemes and plans come to a satisfactory conclusion. But there were forces that, he knew, would see all come falling down about him, and his utter destruction would follow such a failure. In fact, his survival at this point was very slim; if he were to face the truth his set patch was leading to. Still he saw no other path for him. This was the only way to see his true dreams and desires come to fruition; dreams and desires he had held close to his heart for more then 30 years. Yes, his life was a small price to risk, to see all turn out as he wished.

Within the Shadows his ally waits, it seems that he has been waiting for all eternity. His existence is one you or I would not wish on our most hated enemy. His existence is an abomination, a curse, and a plague on the living world. Yet if the offer were made to this being, he would happily share his pain with the whole of creation. He would share it and revel in the pain and suffering that it would bring to others. If there ever was a heart, or a soul, in this creature it had long sense dried up and blown away to wherever such existential things go. If he once knew life, there are none now that can relay that fact. Or give witness to who he was before he became this dark and foul creature. That is if, he ever was anything but what he is now; a creature clinging to the dark places. A creature who gains joy from pain and suffering. A creature so evil, so powerful, that even Lucifer, should he exist, would bar the gates of Hell against.

This shadow of life knows of the words in the book. It has committed them to his memory for more centuries then can be counted. Those words and many others that give heed to a danger and a power are like a soothing lullaby in his mind. They give hope to one who knows not it's meaning nor cares for its caress. But this hope is a dark hope. A hope that will bring him a new existence and spell the end for others.

But he is no fool, and he knows his 'ally' is not one to turn your back on. Though merely human the once rotund man is as clever and evil as he. To think he is loyal to the shadow's desires is to foolishly set his endeavors at peril. It is fear that keeps this vile representation of the human race doing the bidding of the evil that has taken up residence in his library. Fear and a desire for power that would rival the shadow's own were the man to be more then he is. Yet even this powerful fount of evil can feel a certain unease when its thoughts turn to his one time lackey. Much time had passed since the man had called him Master and would do his bidding without hesitation, such time had placed a level of confidence in his heart, that and a belief in his own powers. It took a small bit to reign the mortal man in once more. The fool's initial resistance to set his plan in motions once more had forced him to remind him who and what he dealt with. Still he had decided to play the farce of an alliance. It amused him to think of the utter despair he will suffer when he the fool finds himself, once more, groveling at his feet, for as long as he allows him to live.

In Catherine St. Mary, in the room of one Jeff Hardy, a confrontation has just ended, and none are aware it even took place. Nothing is out of place; the machines still beep their steady rhythm testament that the young man in the bed still breaths. No furniture is out of place; the water pitcher and its companion cup sit peacefully in place on the side table, waiting the time when the room's occupant will have need of their service. The chairs sit along the walls, mute witness to the struggle for life played out in the bed before them, and the one that played out in the center of the room but minutes ago. The only thing that is left to bespeak of the silent battle that played out within the rooms confines is the faint linger of smoke and the lone man that stands gazing sadly down on the form of Jeff Hardy.

A few more minutes pass before the large man moves hesitantly beside the bed. Shakily a hand reaches out to gently caress the top of the bedridden young wrestler's head. A pair of miss-matched eyes gazed worriedly down on the small form in the bed shaking his head sadly. He says nothing as he moves his hand down to the young man's hand and grips it lightly, a gesture of assurance, but is it assurance to the boy or himself? Unbidden yet unsuppressed tears slowly edge down the rounded cheeks of this strong hard man, eventually dropping carelessly on to the very hand he grasps within his own. He blames himself inwardly once more for the condition of this young man and the men in the adjoining rooms. It's what he is that has placed all around him in peril. It's his family's curse to bring pain and misery on anyone and everyone that dares get close. He sees his failed marriage as well as his brother's as signs they are a bane to all humanity. The recent deaths of his brother's wife and children but the newest chapter in the vile plague that is their existence.

Slowly he collapses to his knees, still holding on to the boy's hand, now truly a life line for this man, for he knows, if this young man is taken from him, more then just endless guilt will consume him. He knows not why this certainty has taken him of a sudden, but he knows that it is not false. This young man, Jeff, is to play a very important role in what is to come. And others will come into play; friends and enemies alike will be needed in the coming days. There is more at stake then he could fathom, yet, at this time, he is more sure of his place in the grand weave that is being strung out before him. Never before was his vision so clear, his mind to free of all clutter. He could see the beginning, the middle and the end of what was set in motion eons ago. He can see his brother's part, he can see his own, and he can see the part the owner of the hand he now holds will play. Many other faces pass before his minds eye, most he knows, some he knows and hates, others he has yet to meet, and a few he never will, but all will have their part. The future is laid out before him and if he were a normal man it would have long since driven him crazy.

Of the faces he see, two stand out from all the rest. Two faces he knows as well as he knows his own. Two faces he has not seen in many a year. One elicits a sadness that brings the tears back to his eyes, the other makes his heart constrict in utter terror. Then a new revelation on the heels of the faces fills his whole being with a rage that he unconsciously grasps the smaller hand in his tighter then intended. The anger and rage build and build in his mind till all he sees starts to be consumed, as the flames of his mind seem to try and engulf and incinerate the image that has grown in his mind and will not be banished.

He no longer is a thinking man, he is now rage incarnate, and he aims himself at the image in his mind again and again, his only goal, his only thought, is to destroy it and what it implies. Yet the image resists all his efforts. The fire licking about it as if alive and still the image remains and grows within his mind, pushing back the inferno, pushing back his rage, pushing all back till it is the only thing there and he is nothing. Just a man kneeling at the side of the bed of another man, dried tears staining his cheeks the knowledge he had gained, lost. Even the image was fading, soon forgotten with the rest. All that remained with the man is the feeling all is not as it should be and in his hands he held the world's salvation. He just, no longer knew what that salvation was.

The car is a 2008 Chevrolet Malibu Hybrid. Its sticker price is 25,000. It's black. It's racing down the highway, just over the legal speed limit and it's stolen. A fact the young black-haired passenger is more then a little aware of and concerned about. His companion, on the other hand, seems not to be consumed with worry over the fact he is driving at a high rate of speed in a stolen vehicle. His focus is reaching his destination as quickly as possible and since their attempts at hitchhiking proved to be a lost cause, a fact he was made aware of, before during and after each attempt by his smaller associate, he was left with no other avenue but grand theft auto. And so they are racing down the highway, in said stolen auto, one was praying on a pantheon of gods and powers that he reaches his brother in time, the other praying to only one god that they are not spotted and pulled over by Highway Patrol.

Many times the one that has looked to the sole deity for deliverance from any law enforcement entanglements has thought to urge his Mad Max wannabe companion to slow down some, at least to no more then 10 miles over the speed limit, but one side long glance closes his mouth. No cries for sanity, and safe driving practices, on his part will deter his friend till they are both in the company of their respective siblings and are assured they are hale and hearty. And, truth be told, he shares that need to see his brother is well, that spurs his large auburn haired friend in the driver's seat to risk handcuffs and iron bars to reach them.

The one thing that his kept his panic of finding himself in a cell with a large tattooed man, who was not his friend and yet hand plans to become very close to him, to a dull roar was the fact that in the 500 miles they had already traveled they had not yet come across even the hint of flashing red and blue lights. Finally it dawned on him why his friend was being so reckless in his driving, at least more then he normally was, it was due to magic of some kind. The fact they were racing at break neck speed down a major highway and were not plagued with accidents or police escort to the nearest jail was due to something his companion was doing. Something that required a lot of concentration, as he remembers the many stinging attempts he had made to turn on the radio, the stinging a side effect of having his hand slapped away by his more powerful associate.

This sudden realization helps to calm him and allows him to turn his concerns to more pressing matters. Like what exactly happened with Jeff and Kane?


	2. Sacrifice

**A/N **_Well here it is. The next chapter in my story. I had a few rough patches and it ended at a weird place for me, but it just seemed to want to. LOL_

_Well not much more for me to say. Not all the happy with the chapter for some reason, but who knows it might work for you readers. LOL As always I thank all my readers and reviewers. You guys do keep me going, when I think I am sucking the air out of the room with my writing, and I can't thank you all enough._

**(Side Note:) **_As a personal request if any of you real writers out there (and you know who you are) are up to it, I would love to start a round robin story. Something to keep my creative juices going, while I plug through _**World **_It doesn't have to be anything big, just a little something something for fun...(It can even be slash ;) ) if anyone is up to it, drop me a PM. Even if you don't write normally RRs are a lot of fun and have very little stress to them actually. Hope I hear from someone willing to take me up on this idea._

_Well that's it, on with Chapter 2!_

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2 hours later Mark pulls the Malibu into the parking lot of the hospital. He turns the ignition off and is out of the car in record time, not even taking the time to remove the keys. Matt, also take little time to care what happens to the car, but does take a few moment to gather his and Mark's packs from the back seat. Rushing quickly to catch up to his large companion who has already passed through the rotating doors into the hospital interior.

By time he catches up to the big wrestler he is standing at the reception window scowling at a, somewhat, unnerved employee who is informing Mark that visiting time is over and that the person he is asking about can only receive family members. Matt slams his fist hard down on the Formica desktop, causing the woman to jump and gasp, as he glares at her before speaking. "My name is Matt Hardy, you people have my brother here and I'm gonna see him, or tear this building down doing it, you got me?" The woman, who had already noted Mark's outlandish clothing and now Matt's is not sure what her next move should be and hopes that security is sending someone to her aid. A hope that is quickly realized as two large uniformed men approach the desk stepping to either side of Mark and Matt.

"Can we help you gentlemen?" asks one of the security offers, a largish man, who hides his muscular physique behind a more loose fitting uniform then his partner, who's wiry frame is very miss leading. Mark frowns as he looks to the man to his right and even though the wrestler is roughly the man's size and build, the security guard unconsciously backs up a pace. Matt, sensing possible trouble that could land them both in jail places a halting hand on Mark's shoulders as he pulls his wallet from his pack and shows it to the receptionist. "Like I said I'm Matt Hardy and Jeff's my brother. I was told was here and I want to see him." He avoids adding 'now' to the end, knowing it will only cause more tension and an already volatile situation. The woman looks over his WWE idea and driver's license, hands it back and nods to Mark. "And who is he? Only relatives can enter ICU." The look that passes between the two men grows from concerned to alarmed. "I'm Mark Calaway, I was told my…" he hesitates for just a second before continuing, "…my brother was here Glen Jacobs." He quickly pulls his wallet from his own pack at Matt's feet and hands it, as well, to the young woman, who's look turned from nervous fear to sympathy. Glances quickly at Mark's id before handing it back, re taking her seat as she makes marks on to square papers. "Take the elevator to the second floor, just fool the signs to ICU."

The two security guards had already back away after hearing Jeff and Glen's names mentioned. There were very few in the hospital unaware of their famous patients now fighting for their lives on the second floor. Or the lone man still allowed up there for word on their condition. Mark and Matt, take the papers, each doing his best not to imagine why their brother's would be in the ICU ward. Stephanie was reluctant to explain to them, when they met her at the hotel, what had happened only directing them to the hospital. Mark knew something was wrong, he could feel it. Yet he could not hear her thoughts on the matter, it was like his old barriers where back up. He did not have the time or the inclination to pry into her head and find out what she was not say, hurriedly leaving the hotel for the hospital. Now that they were there, the mystery would finally be solved once they reached Glen.

They waste no time heading to the elevators, impatiently pressing the call button till it arrived with a ding. They took the trip up in tension filled silence. Neither man wanting to speculate what had transpired once Glen and Jeff had left them a year ago. Though in truth it had only been a day tops. Their trip through the Darkside made a mess of their time sense. When their floor was reached Mark was the first off the elevator, not even waiting for the doors to fully open before he pushed pass stopping to look both ways, hoping to spot his brother. Growling to himself when he did not immediately see him. Matt was fast on his heels, but did not waste time look about, but grab the first nurse he saw, one moving along the hall pushing a triage stand. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Jeff Hardy's room." After checking for their passes the nurse directs them Jeff's room telling them they will have to check in with the nurse on duty before going in, to make sure no one else is in there with him.

Matt quickly thanks her and walks hurriedly in the direction she gave followed closely by Mark. They reached the nurse's station which was currently unmanned which drew out a frustrated growl from Mark. Matt, who was finally fed up with being nice and following the rules went to find his brothers room, pulling up short as he passed an open door spotting a form he knew well. "What the hell Matt why'd you stop?" This from Mark who had trailed on Matt's heels and nearly bumped into the younger man as he suddenly stop. Turning his attention into the room where Matt was looking his eyes went wide as he recognized the man in the bed surrounded by beeping machines and connected to various wires as Randy Orton. Both men walked into the room in stunned silence. The young man was wrapped from groan to neck in a cast, a tube running his mouth to, what they assumed, was oxygen nearby and his face was badly bruised. Matt look to Mark who could not take his eyes off the once vibrant young man laid out before him, remember their last encounter, remembering his words to Randy and Dave. "We have to find Glen and your brother." It's all he says before turning quickly and leave, Matt following after a last glance to the man in the bed. Catching up to Mark, as he is about to enter the room where they were told Jeff was.

A quick push on the door and the dark room is flooded with the light from the corridor, allowing both men to witness the heart wrenching scene before them of a weeping Glen on his knees besides the bed upon which the unresponsive Jeff Hardy is reposed, the young man's hand clutched tightly in mammoth man's grip.

Mark finds himself unable to move as he takes in the tableau, his mouth working yet he cannot seem to form a single sound or word. Matt, who is not gripped with the same paralysis, walks stunned into the room circling the bed with his brother, to stun by the sight of his sibling, looking as if he were dead. Not even the beeping and whirring of the machines about him can dispel the impression that he is looking upon the dead body of his beloved brother. "jeff?" It's a whisper, so low not even Mark in the door heard it. It' was as if Matt did not want it to carry to the bed where Jeff lay, afraid that if it did and Jeff did not respond, it would make the image he saw real, and he could not, would not, believe his dear brother was gone. His mind flashes to all the arguments and fights he had ever hand with the younger man and chokes back a sob. Jeff was everything in his life, how could he have fought with him over things that now seem to minuscule. Jeff has to be ok; he has to be, so Matt can apologize for all the mean and hurtful things he has ever said to him. He wants, he needs, to tell Jeff how much he loves him, how much being his brother means to the dark haired young man.

He moves to the opposite side of the bed from Glen, and hesitantly reaches out for the other hand, his own lingering inches away, to scared to touch him, afraid he will touch the cold unresponsive skin of the dead. Finally he forces himself to gently encircle Jeff's hand in his and nearly collapses to the floor in relief as he feels the life affirming warmth from his brother. Jeff is alive, that is all he can think, that is all that matters. He raises eyes brimming with unshed tears to his companion, wishing, without words, for his aid. Whatever is wrong with his brother needs more then conventional medicine can do. "You did it before, please Mark, please for my brother." He knows what he is asking is a lot. He knows it will cost Mark in the long run, but he can only think of Jeff at the moment, he is his life and he can only hope the large man in the doorway, is willing to pay the cost for him.

Mark's eyes have gone cold, the undefined grayness has returned as he looks on the scene before him. His brother crying at the bed of the boy whose brother had become his closest friend over the past year. That newfound friend pleading with him to do something they both knew should not be done in this realm and will cost Mark a great deal to do. Then his eyes pass over the still form in the bed and the gray turns to nearly sea green. This boy has had a lot to deal with in his life. A lot of mistakes, not all of his making, and yet, he was so willing to help him and his brother, so willing to see the good and the human in them. Few would do that without cause. It took nearly the past year for Matt to get to the point of seeing him as Mark and not the Undertaker. It only took Jeff a day. It was clear to him that the cost Matt was asking him to pay was no cost at all; just the repayment of Jeff's kindness.

"Move back from the bed." His voice is cool and commanding. Both Glen and Matt give him and uncertain look, then release their holds on Jeff's hands, and step back form the bed. It is the looking Mark's eyes that forestall all questions from Glen, and all words of gratitude from Matt. Glen closes the door as Mark walks fully into the room, making sure his brother will not be disturbed in whatever it is he is about to do, Matt moves near Glen, he knows what is about to occur and he knows the big man will need to stay calm and he hopes he can succeed in doing that. He whispers low to Glen as Mark moves to the foot of Jeff's bed. "Please Glen, whatever happens you can't interfere or try and stop it, or we both can lose a bother." Glen looks down on the dark haired young man frowning, "What the hell is Mark about to do?" His voice is raw from the emotions that he has given vent to over the last few hours, but the menace can still be heard by Matt.

"He's going to try and heal Jeff, but it's not pretty or quiet." He glances to the door behind them, "We're gonna have to keep the door closed. Cause I'm sure the nose will draw attention, and a lot of it." It's clear Glen wants to know more about what is going to happen, but Matt knows there is no time for explanations and holds his hand up commandingly, taking the larger man aback at the assured demeanor of the older Hardy as he says, "You'll see, just don't move and don't let anyone in." On the tail end of his words they both turn as hear Mark begin to mumble to himself, at least that is what it seems like to his brother, Matt, on the other hand, is well aware that Mark has started the ritual and that there is no turning back now. So of course he now wonders if he did the right thing, by asking Mark to do this. He loves his brother greatly, but the price Mark is going to pay for his helping is not a small one, and one Matt can never pay back. Maybe he should have given modern medicine chance to help, after all he has no idea what was wrong with Jeff in the first place. He just saw his little brother laid up in that bed, barely breathing and all logical thought deserted him. He should stop this now, before Mark gets to far into the ritual to turn back, but he knows it's already too late. The moment the older man spoke it was to late to turn back. Matt swallows hard, running a hand over his head in frustration with himself, he was selfish and now he can't take back what is about to happen.

Glen looks down at Matt in wonder. He can feel the emotional storm running rampant in the boy, but no idea what it stems from. It's not entirely about Jeff, that much he can feel, something about what is happening over there with Mark has the Hardy completely tied in knots. Does it have something to do with what he said about Mark healing Jeff? When did his brother get that ability he wonders, or has Mark always had the ability to heal? No. Mark would have revealed that to him long before now. And something else was bothering Glen. How come Matt seemed to know anything about what Mark was about to do? They'd only been away from each other for no more then a day, what could have happened in that space of time? _"Come to think, if I did not know better I would swear Matt looks like he's got a beard starting." _Glen thinks to himself, _"And where the hell did they get those cloths?" _ That is when Glen finally takes a long look at both men and realizes his brother's hair was nearly it's natural Auburn color, with barely a hint of the dyed color he last had in it, and Matt's hair was clearly longer then last he and Jeff were with them, it is as if both men had aged a year or more; but that was impossible.

Glen's thoughts were interrupted as Mark gives out a heart-stopping inhuman howl that reverberated off the walls of the room, shattering the windows. "What the fuck's he doing?" Glen had to yell as Mark, astonishingly, sustained the howl well past the point a normal person would have run out of air. Matt quickly waves the big man silent, as the door behind them starts to open accompanied by the concerned shouts from the nurses on the other side. In spite of his confusion over what his brother was doing, Glen quickly joins Matt in pushing the door shut once more, preventing the nurses entrance and blocking out there frantic yells as to what is happening in the room. Glen spares another look to the bed, and wishes he had not as he see Mark, mouth still agape in the prolonged howl, now surrounded by glowing wisps of light.

Glen knew full well what those wisps of light were. Mark had told him about them, even conjured a few so Glen would know them should he see them. They were the spirits of the Damned. What was left of the souls of truly evil beings, and they flocked to his brother like moths to a flame. Mark would say they were the reminder to him of just what his soul's true nature was. They were the proof of his own innate evil. _"Evil draws to Evil." _Mark would say those times when the two brothers were alone and he was in one of his moods. _"They come to me, cause I can sustain their existence." _He would explain to Glen, _"If I was not here, there would not be a single source of evil strong enough to maintain all this darkness and evil, that refuses to die." _ That was the other thing, Glen remembers, Mark could see these "spirits" all the time. From far away all they looked like were motes of light, but up close, their true nature shown through, the darkness and evil that each one represented was open to anyone willing, or unfortunately to look. Years and decades of evil deeds, and acts were mirrored on their surface. Murdered men, women and children's faces flirted here and there, their mouths opened in perpetual screams. Landscapes blasted by war, the bloated bodies of massacred innocents. It was all there and Mark saw it ever day of his life. It helped to form the man he was; it gave him his dark out look on life. And at times it fueled a rarely expressed wish to be done with it all.

Glen prefers not to think of those times his brother would sit staring at the air whispering of the many ways human's kill themselves and how easy it would be for him. Nothing every came of it, nothing ever would. As much as he might secretly wish release from life, he also clung to it like a drowning man. He knew both sides, Life and Death, Good and Evil and he knew there was no escape from them. No ending in death, even if life was torture. Sometimes Glen wishes he and his brother had found each other sooner, he might have settled those thoughts that also ran in Glen's head when he would have to deal with the scares. Not the ones that surgery removed long ago, but the imagined ones that stayed. He believed in his own hideousness long after it stopped being a fact. It was Mark's love and support, among other things, that finally broke through and showed him the normal face he possessed and made him believe it was real. He stopped wishing for an end to a pain that was not real, and began to live the life before him. His brother did this for him, even when he could not do it for himself. He would always be grateful to Mark for that one gift.

"So why is he making them visible now?" Glen wonders. Mark prefers to acknowledge them as little as possible and he would never include them in any of his rituals. At least none he had ever witnessed. Again he looks down at Matt and frowns. Matt looks apprehensive as he watches Mark perform his magic, yet he does not seem at all surprised or afraid at what he is seeing. As insane as it sounds, he seemed calmer then Glen has ever been around his brother when Mark was dealing with the 'Dark Arts', as he called it. He can't shake the feeling that something big must have happened to the two after he left them.

Glen's thoughts where once more interrupted as he feels the room's temperature suddenly drop drastically. Mark was no longer howling and the wisps of light were now hovering over Jeff in his bead. Some were also streaming out of the, now, glassless windows. Fear started to grip Glen's heart and he did not know why. Something very wrong was happening. Mark was doing something he knew he should not do and Glen had to stop him now. He made a move towards his brother, who was now standing silently his eyes pupileless orbs, 'gazing' down on Jeff and the Damned that surrounded the boy's body. He did not move an inch before his arm was gripped hard from behind and he was pulled back against the door that has started to open, once his bulk was no longer there to block, the raised male voices beyond the door let him know that the hospital's security had been called in. He looked to Matt, knowing it was the young man who had stopped him from rushing over to mark, seeing his pleading eyes gazing up at him, as the boy also strived to prevent those outside from entering.

Matt knew that Glen was about to stop Mark from finishing the ritual and eh knew it was to late to do that and all Glen would do was make things very dangerous for all concerned. He mouthed 'Please' to Glen then put all his weight in keeping the door from being flung open, a chore as it was clear there had to be several bodies pushing at it by this point. Glen met his plea with a frown, then sighed and returned to helping him prevent anyone from entering. The big man pushing down the growing unease he was feeling as ever second ticked by.

Neither man knew how long they had stood there holding against the pounding on the door. Both were growing weary when a large hand dropped on both their shoulders, at the same time they both realized the room had returned to its normal temperature. "It's over. Let them in." Both Matt and Glen turned to see Mark standing behind them. He was drained; even Matt could see that. His eyes were barely opened and did not have their usual intense gleam, his shoulders were sagging and his voice was barely above a whisper. "He'll be ok now…They all will…I need to rest now." Mark seemed to need to draw in air to speak each short sentence. Glen was off the door in a flash as he saw Mark start to slump, catching him before he hit the floor. "What the hell did he just do Hardy?" Glen's words were clip and full of menace, easily perceive by Matt, but he was beyond caring as he rushed over to his brother, who was now sitting up, looking about the room bewilderedly.

Just then the door burst open as, not only, the hospital security entered, but were followed closely by 3 police offers with guns drawn, yelling at the three men not in a bed.

"FREEZE!"


	3. Revalation

**Disclaimer: **Well seeing as have not said this in awhile and knowing how someone ppl can get coughvincecough I will reiterate I don't own anything to do with the wwe, I just own my thoughts and the framework of this fictional story. OK ?

**A/N: **_Well the skys open and out of the darkness I actually get an update up. LOL_

_I tell ya, this one took a awhile. It was th first part that really seemed to bog me down for nearly a month, can't explain why. But finally I wrestled that bad boy to the ground and was able to get this done. I hope ya'll love it._

**Side note:**_ I want to bring something up before I release you guys to the next chapter. I would like you guys to take the time to read this really off the chart fic by one of the boards best writers, **Dark Kaneanite**. The story is called _**This wasn't in the job description. **_The reason I bring up this story, is that it is a great story, but I seem to be the only one reviewing it and I think that is a crime. We have too many great writers out there, giveing us all such great literary efforts and to see one being read by others yet no one willing to give the writer some feedback is a shame._

_Now I have said more time then I can count I do not look for reviews, and I don't. I'm no writer, I'm just someone who dabbles at it, and I am very appreciative when someone takes the time to tell me how thye feel about my efforts, there are real writers out there that really do deserve praise for their efforts and **Kaneanite** is one of them and her story is a master piece that should not be over-looked by anyone._

_Now I understand it's not always possible to leave a review, but once in awhile, give one to the ppl who write on here. Even if it;s one word, I am sure it is appreciated. And if it means you have to not give me a review cause you hold yourselves to one review a day or week then I am happy to make the sacrifice if it lets someone else know they are appreciated._

_This mini-soapbox stance is based on the loss to the writing community of one of it's best. Her writing name was Boudicca and she had the greatest wrestling slash fic website of all the net. She left when readers like us, stopped letting her know who much they cared or did not care. It was the worse lose to wrestling fanfiction I can remember, and I don't want to see it happen again. So folks, try and remember to give something back to the ppl who entertain you. Thank you for listening and I'll try and not be so preachy in the future. LOL_

_Anyway, on to chapter 3!_

_Enjoy!_

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A moment caught in time.

Nine souls stand at a crossroad.

A movement, or a word, the wrong or right thing done or said and the fate of the world could be Darkness, or it could retain the chance at survival.

Two security guards, 3 armed policemen, 4 professional wrestlers, and only one can tip the balance to salvation.

"What's going on…Why are you pointing guns at my brother and friends…Why am I in a hospital?" Jeff Hardy breaks the tension with three hesitant, bewildered queries. It is further broken as 3 nurses rush past the large men at the door towards Jeff's bed, quickly checking his monitors, asking him questions about how he is feeling, one rushing out, her expression one of complete and utter disbelief. The two security guards, conditioned to take their cue from the hospital staff, back out of the rooms as they see the nurses start to treat this in a medical way, deciding to wait in the hall till someone tells them what is, exactly, is going on. The three police officers are not as prone to back down or leave the room. They had received a call that someone in the hospital was being attacked by unknown assailants. Arriving at the room and being greeted with a loud animal like howling and someone blocking the door, against all their efforts to gain entrance to the room, only to have resistance disappear suddenly and, on entering, finding one man on the floor being held by another and the person they assumed was the patient sitting up in his bed unharmed. They wanted answers and were not leaving till they got them.

Matt could not take his eyes off his brother. Mark's powers always amazed him, one minute his brother was a question mark on whether he would ever wake up, and now he was sitting up in his bed, asking questions and trying to shoo the nurse away. "Resiliency, that name is Jeff." He smirks as he realizes he had spoken out loud as Jeff, the nurses and the police turn to look at him causing him to shrugs smiling sheepishly. "Well he is." was all the young man could say. Matt makes his way closer to Jeff's bed once more, as the police holster they're guns, seeing there really is no life threatening danger at the moment.

One of them walks over to the bed looking directly at Matt. "Ok, you seem to think this is funny, want to tell us what all that howling was?" Matt was no fool, the situation, though not as intense as it stated, could still get out of hand and see all three men behind bars in no time. Thinking quickly he decides on a little bit of truth might not be a bad idea as he points directly at the unconscious form of Mark on the floor still being held by his brother.

"The howling was him officer." He sees Glen's eyes nearly pop out of his head as Matt fingers his brother in front of him, knowing if he was not holding Mark at the very moment the big man would be choking the life out of him right now. The officer looks down at Mark and frowns as his partner bends down to look the motionless man over, followed by a nurse now that they are assured Jeff was ok. Both policemen look back at Matt to explain himself. "My friend is into alternative…um…medicines…and spiritual stuff like that." He looks back to his brother, somewhat for effect, somewhat to assure himself that Jeff is still sitting up in bed hail and hearty. "I'm his brother and I would do anything to see him well, so I agree to let him do his thing. Which pretty much was nothing but him screaming at the top of his lungs." He smirks as if disregarding Mark's alleged actions on Jeff's behalf. "All I care about is my brother is awake." He looks to the nurse still removing most of the wires from his brother, leaving only one needle in his arm, but disconnecting it from the fluid that was originally dripping slowly into it. "People come out of comas all the time I've heard, is that what happened nurse?" Another nurse, an older black woman who had just walked in, answers his question. "That has happened before sir, but till a doctor has seen him we really can't say what is happening with your brother."

She looks around and motions to the nurse looking over Mark, "Get him down to emergency." It becomes clear to the rest of the individuals in the room that this older woman was clearly in charge as she begins to bark orders at the other nursing staff in the room, as well as the orderly wheeling in the gurney for Mark. "Sir you're going to have to let us see to your friend." This is said to Glen who has, so far, only allowed the staff to check his brother over but has glared at anyone that, even, looked like that would try and remove him from his embrace. The nurse looks to Matt for help, obviously knowing strong arming him with security was not the way to go. Matt seeing her look nods, gives Jeff an encouraging look then walks over to Glen, kneeling down near him. "Hey big guy, they need to take Mark to a doctor to look him over," he puts a hand on his arm drawing his attention, looking the larger man directly in his eyes, "Trust me Mark's fine, they just have to find that out for themselves. He'll be up and about in no time. But for now, let them check him out. Ok?" he sees the question in the bald man's eyes and shakes his head. This is not the time for Glen's questions. Luckily Glen does not push and gently releases his brother head to the floor as he stands up and backs away.

While all is transpiring around Mark, Jeff watches on greatly bewildered. The last the young man can remember he was in the match with Glen and had just gotten sucker punched by Randy. Why he was in a hospital was a mystery to him. An even bigger mystery was the presence of his brother and Mark; both of whom, he knew, should be miles away finding the first key, or whatever it was Paul had them out searching for. His eyes drift to his brother and he is hit by the fact that Matt looked wrong, something was out of place about him; besides the outlandish cloths he and Mark were wearing. A few more seconds and he realized that it was Matt's face, or more the point the filled in beard that adorned his chin and jaw line. Now Matt was known for quick facial growth, but that still took a few weeks to a month to get to the state it was in now; not the few hours that the quartet had been separated.

He is distracted from his musings as one of the hospitals doctors walks in the room, looking quizzically as Mark is wheeled out on a gurney. "Am I here for him?" He asks the head nurse who nods affirmation to his question. "Ok, give me his vitals…." His voice trails off as he follows quickly behind the orderly and Mark with Glen close on their heels. Jeff turns his attention to his brother who has retaken his place at the side of Jeff's bed.

"Matt?" His look expresses more then a long string of questioning words could convey at this time. Nothing made sense and he knew only his brother could change that situation. The sigh that escapes Matt is not even close to reassuring, to the bedridden young man. "Don't just sigh, tell me what's going on, damnit. Why am I in a hospital room, what's wrong with Mark and why where there cops in here?"

Matt bit his lip, trying to formulate an answer he could give to his younger brother that would not upset him, or the nurses still in the room; who are clearly listening in on their conversation. "Calm down bro. You got hurt, I'm not sure how, so far no one's been nice enough to fill me. As for Mark, he, uh, over taxed himself is all, he'll be ok…don't worry about it." He says the last with an assertion he hopes Jeff picks up on, like with Kane he wants Jeff to hold off looking for explanations till one can be given, away from unwanted ears. As it is Glen will not be happy with what Mark has just done and he will have to deal with that when the time comes. For now he is happy to see his brother get the message and settle back in his bed, a glance over to the police still in the room gives him a momentary pause till one walks over, tells him they are leaving as there does not seem to be anything wrong now and the patient ok. His sigh of relief is mostly internal.

Down the hall in the room given to Mark, the young doctor is speaking to the three nurses as they check his blood pressure, prepare to take blood and run an EKG. Glen is standing in the door watching the hustle and bustle around Mark with more then a little concern. Something had happened with his brother and Matt since the four men had separated a day ago. He was not too sure before in Jeff's room but now seeing Mark laid out on the bed, his 'shirt' removed the changes where beyond obvious. The last time he saw his brother, his physique was rock solid and tone with a fair amount of upper body detail. That was no longer the case.

Years ago, the older man, seeing the change in wrestling fan's likes and dislikes, and not wanting to be looked at like many older wrestlers who let themselves go as they got to the top of the ladder, he started taking care of himself and working out more. Sara was a big help in that department, Mark would always say. There were periods where he would slip a bit, but never backslid to the point anyone could tell. His brother with his chest uncovered had the appearance of a rock hard bear. Glad stifled the laugh that wanted to rise as he thought about the big man's gut, which would never be confused with a 6-pack unless one were talking about a 6-pack of beer, but it was not one of those that made a man's shirt stick out past his toes; it too was rock hard and made of muscle, mostly.

And Mark would spend hours maintaining his body, foregoing a lot of fun to do it, for the most part. It was not like he completely denied himself having fun, or drinking with the boys; he just did so in moderation. A long way from the party animal he once was, At least with his friends, this not the case now with his brother at the moment as he lay on the bed. It was not like he had blown up, it was just much of the muscles in his shoulders and arms were gone. His gut was smaller; something Glen never thought was possible and his chest lacked the definition of only a day ago. Mark would have had to change his workout procedure at least a year ago for him to look the way he does now. "He's leaner, if that is possible, but the muscles are not as prominent." Thinks Glen. "And his gut a bit smaller. Yeah those two have a lot of explaining to do." He's drawn out of his thoughts as he hears his brother's voice from the bed.

"What…. what's going on?" Mark is accompanying his question with a, weak, attempt to rise from the bed. This is met with firm female hands attempting to impede his success.

"Please Mr. Calaway, you need to lay back so we can get a clear reading." The nurses voice is strained as she finds her attempts to push Mark back to the bed are gaining her no positive results. The sight brings out a chuckle from Glen in the doorway, which draws Mark's questioning eyes to him.

"Hey big guy lay back so they can check you out ok." He walks over after a nod from the doctor who sees they are going to need help keeping the large man in the bed quiet enough to do the test they need. Glen smirks down at his brother once he gets near him, pushing him back with no small effort on his part. "I said lay back, ok?" Glen gets the impression his brother is about to panic, something he rarely does and it never ends up good cause a panicked Mark is one that tends to react violently. Taking a shot in the dark at what might be getting him worked up applies more pressure to keep in the bed. "Mark Jeff's fine, he's sitting up and talking and Matt's with him." Upon hearing those words Mark gives Glen a searching look, obviously excepting his brother's words he lays back with no more fuss, even taking a deep breath to calm himself. One mirrored by glen. Glen steps back to allow the doctor and nurses to return to dealing with, a now, calmer Mark. A lot of question are still floating around in his head about the oddness of how Mark and Matt look, but beyond that, the situation that had just settled itself has raised even more perplexing questions. Question about his brother and himself.

"I've never seen him like this about anyone that was not family." Glen muses to himself. "He was on the verge of going off, and all because of a kid, he barely paid much attention too outside of work." Leaning against the wall, absently watching the activity in the room, the massive man can't help but shake his head as his thoughts follow a very unsettling track. "…And it's not just Mark, with the kid, it's me as well. I nearly killed Dave and Randy because they were hurting Jeff." His mind plays back the incident in the ring, he can, again, feel the burning anger at both men, when he saw Jeff go down to Randy's sucker punch. He comes to the realization that if it had been Mark, himself, getting such a savage beating, he would not have been anymore enraged. "Is it the kid? Is something going on with me and Mark?" He unconsciously grinds his teeth, "Is it something to do with that slime of a father of mine, or is something else going on?" Grunting in frustration, he moves off the wall, taking one last look to make sure his brother will not be giving the nursing staff anymore trouble he walks out and heads back to Jeff's room. It's time he got some explanations around here, and right now the only one that can give it is Matt.

When he arrives at the room he is relieved to see no one is there save Jeff and his brother. Closing the door as he steps in he can't help by smile a little as he listens to Matt and Jeff talking. "I am never letting you out of my sight again. I'll tie a chain to you if I have to." Matt grumbles as he stands at the foot of his brother's bed. He can see Jeff is doing all he can to stifle the grin that is playing at the corners of his mouth. Glen is very used to this reaction to being scolded by an older sibling. Once he and Mark had stopped being enemies and moved into the realm of accepting each other as brothers, Mark, early on, had starting bossing him around when he, Mark, thought Glen was doing something wrong. Glen will never forget the night his annoying brother took it on himself to show up in his room. The one he planned on spending the night in with a young female wrestling fan. Suffice it to say, his yelling about "Burning in Hell" and "Taking her Soul for transgressing with the brother of the Devil", that sort of thing. It was enough to have the poor girl running down the hall while trying to get her arms back in her blouse. "Like he never spent a night or two with someone sharing his bed. My brother can be such a hypocrite at times." The big man thinks to himself.

"Ok Matt, I think he got the message, you were worried." Glen walks over and puts an arm over the smaller man's shoulder gently guiding him to a chair and insistently making him sit. "Time to move on to more important topics, like what the hell did my brother do to cure Jeff, Dave and Randy?" He saw the look Jeff shot him as well as the one from Matt. "Yeah, on the way in here one of the nurses stopped me to tell me both were ok now. Sporting a few bruises, but other then that they were in near perfect health; just like Jeff here." He can tell by the surprised look on the older Hardy's face that this was news to him; which confuses Glen even more.

"Ok," Jeff chimes in, "Matt told me I was in a coma or something and that Mark healed me. I get that. But what happened to Randy and Dave?" Glen runs his hand over the top head, having dreaded revealing to the young man what had happened in the ring. Nor was he happy to relay his action once Jeff was down. He weighted only telling him part of what occurred, but thought better of it; he deserved the disgusted, even frightened look he would get. He was disgusted with himself for allowing his anger to get so out of control he nearly killed to men. He was also afraid of what would have happened if he had lost control of more then just his temper; what if he had lost control enough to use his powers on them. He closes his eyes not wanting to even imagine what that would mean, what that would lead to. As it is he can already imagine how the opinion of the rest of the WWE must have changed after his rampage in the ring. By now everyone that had supported him and Mark where probably ready to see them both gone from the company; all because he could not control himself.

A touch on his arm nearly makes him jump shaking him out of his self-loathing introspecting. "Hey big guy, you ok? You zoned out on us there." Matt looks up into Glen's anguished mismatched eyes, and wonders what had gripped the man to make him look so lost. He knew the look; he'd seen it enough in Mark's eyes over the last year. In fact he was struck, for the very first time, just how much the two men seem to be different sides of the same coin, and he wonders why it was no one actually ever saw the resemblance to they held. It was like the truth was screaming at everyone, be they all blithely ignored it. His mind flashed back to the time of the American Baddass days of Mark, when the Brother's of Destruction were born. He could see the two men walking down the ramp side-by-side and now it was impossible to not see that it was not just a gimmick, it was the truth. "How could we have been fooled so easily? How could we have been so blind?" He wonders to himself. He can't help but wonder what would have come if the truth had been revealed at that time. What if the truth had been revealed at a time when Mark was not faced with the murder of his family and the highjacking of Glen's and his life by their former mentor? Would he and Jeff have gotten this close to them? Would they have been willing to see the men past the powers? Would they have been like the others, fearful of what effect this revelation would have on their spots in the company? Would it have required a devastation event like what has happened to get them to see Mark and Glen as human and not 'freaks'? Matt sighs, inwardly, as he has no answer and that, in itself, makes him feel ashamed. "I guess we all like to think we are far more noble then we truly are" he thinks to himself.

Now it is his turn to jump as he is shaken from his own introspecting. "Am I ok? Are _you_ ok?" this from Glen, who is gripping Matt's shoulders, not sure why the young man is just staring at him. Matt gives him a weak smile and nods.

"I'm ok, just lost in thought is all," The older Hardy looks back to his, obviously, confused brother and smirks, "Hey don't give me that look, or do I need to remind you how many times you'll go off on your own just to day dream about something you want to draw, or jump?"

Jeff throws up his hands grinning. "Hey just waiting on an explanation." Matt nods then looks back at Glen.

"You wanted one too, right. Well sit and I'll tell as much as I can here," he looks towards the door, "Most of it will have to wait till we're all out of here and alone. The two other man give each other looks then nod, as Glen, move to the other chair in the room and settles down. "Ok, making this short and sweet. Mark used his connection with certain "powers' to heal you three." He frowns a bit before going on, "Actually, he was only supposed to heal Jeff, not really sure how he reached out to Randy and Dave. I've never seen him heal more then one person at a time before…" He is interrupted when Glen launches himself from his chair.

"How the hell do you know what my brother and can and cannot do, and when the hell did you ever see him use his powers?" The suspicion in Glen's eyes gives Matt a moment of pause as his stomach tightens with dread. Luckily it is clear the big man has no intention of doing the younger man any harm as he continues to talk, but makes no other physical move, for now. "The way you talk, you've seen Mark do stuff more then once, like it was an everyday thing." Glen frowns a bit, "And what's up with the cloth and that beard?"

Now Glen is interrupted as Jeff joins in, "Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing. How'd your hair get longer in only a day or, for that matter, you look thinner." Jeff leans forward looking into his older brother's eyes, "What they hell happened to the two of you when we left?"

"We became friends." All three men's eyes are drawn to the door when a new voice fills the room. "For now that is all you two get, till we get the hell out of here."

As Glen and Jeff digesting Mark's revelation, a few miles away in a large hotel suite, several World Wrestling Entertainment wrestlers are sitting around having a very serious discussion. The feeling in the room can be called charged and intense. There are differing outlooks held by each man and women in this room. The talk has been heated at times, and others subdued. Opinions have flown back and forth, and more then a few times, violence nearly clawed its way to the surface threatening to dismantle the meeting and render its intent a loss cause. But such must be expected in a situation of this nature. No one in this room can claim to have experienced in their lives what has been revealed to them in just the last two days, or what they saw occur in the ring, a few hours ago. Each of them has much to consider, their lives, their families, their very livelihoods. All of which many feel are threatened by the men they look on as friends in some form or other. Do they make their voices heard in support or in opposition to those men? Do they back Paul in his judgment that Mark and Glen pose a threat to the company and the industry as a whole and if not that, at the very least, the men and women they work with?

Other's have join his cry to have them suspended for a time, if not out and out fired, after they saw the carnage rendered by Glen in the ring on Randy and Dave. They ignore the reasonings given by others that it was the men themselves that brought down Glen's wrath when they nearly killed Jeff, arguing that the two men would never have done that, it was Glen who over reacted, putting both men in comas they might not wake up from. Those behind Glen and Mark, could not believe that others could not have seen that Randy's sneak attack from behind knocked Jeff out on contact and he had to have known it, yet he continued the attack. Others were more willing to defend Batista and less willing to back Orton, while other would defend Mark, who was not there, and less supportive of Glen's actions.

These battles of words raged on for hours, as off to the side the master manipulator, the man that set this meeting up in hopes of just this very result gives a look to his young friend, sharing a knowing glance. So far, he was still the voice in their ears they did not suspect, the person pushing opinions in the direction of his choosing. Only the young man sitting in with the others knew his role in the rumors of the last few days, and even he did not realize there was more he did not know about this man, and his agenda; which was, as he wanted it. As the debates raged the man stands, giving one last look to the gathering he makes his way out of the suite, he has other things to see to, and all seemed to be proceeding as he wish with the wrestlers. The outcome of their meeting was not important. The sowing of the seed of distrust and disunity was his goal and it was well planted from his point of view. He does have a slight twinge of disquiet amidst his sense of accomplishment. He knows he is playing with fire, so to speak, by using Mark and Glen to bring his plan to fruition. He was never very big on Mark, and seeing him gone would be a cherry on the top of seeing his endeavors succeed. But he knew if either man found out his part in their down fall, he doubted he would see the other side of daylight.

Still it was a risk he had to take. He had a job to do and he would see it down and let what comes come.

As the man, whose had was directing the events in the WWE, moved down the hall of the hotel with a destination only he knows, in another large suite two generation of McMahons are having their own meeting.

"Dad, you can't blame Glen! You saw what Randy did!" Stephanie was beside her self, she could feel she was alone in her defense of Glen's action, he mother said nothing, her face the usual impassible and unreadable mask she has cultivated over years of board meetings and contract negotiations, while her older bother, sits back unwilling to make eye contact. She knows he would like to support her and the two brothers, but it's hard to look past what happened in the ring, especially since fans witnessed part of it.

"Look Steph my hands are tied. He nearly killed those boys in there, and the fans saw it." Vince understands his daughter's distress, but he knows he has to do something, he either tries to convince the fans that witnessed Glen's rampage first hand that it was all a work, or he suspends Glen for wellness, and leave his detractors ammo to claim 'Riod' rage. Or he lets him go based on his actions in the ring, still leaving the door open for steroid abuse accusations, but at least he can make the point that there was no evidence of it, but that as a responsible company they had to let him go out of concern for the other employees. He could try and direct thoughts to the Nowinski people and the possibility of brain damage from untreated concussions, that would remove the talk of steroids and alieve any pressure on the company. He sighs heavily. No matter what he does now, this was a public relations nightmare. And then there was the issue of Mark.

Suddenly his wife breaks in on his thoughts, "Vince, looking at this from all sides, we are really boxed in here." She sighs looking to her two children and husband, "We let him go, we look bad somehow, someway, we don't we look bad still to some, and others just might buy it being a very realistic work. No matter what we do, we will end up looking back to someone." She leans back as she drapes one leg over the other, folding her hands in her lap. "So we need to see who matters most in the long run. I think, in this instance, it's the workers. If they start to think we really don't give a damn about their safety, the fact we are the biggest wrestling company in the world will not matter. We could lose some and others might pass us up and take their chances with Jarret. Loyalty matter once, but we made that null and void. The kids we have now, don't care about being loyal they care about getting ahead and if that means also staying alive they will chose that." She looks sadly over to her daughter, "I'm sorry Steph, but if the boys decide they want Glen and Mark gone I say we do just that." She stands and walks over to her daughter taking her hand, "I care for Mark as much as you dear, but we run a business and this could be the straw we have been afraid of for five years and you know that."

Stephanie can't look in her mother's eyes, because she knows her mother is right, she just doesn't want anyone to see the truth of it in her eyes. She takes her hand back from her mother sighing sadly, "So when do we do this?"

Vince smiles sadly at his daughter before clearing his voice and standing. He walks over to the table in the room looking over some schedules. "We have a meeting before the PPV. We get the talent's vote then. Then we make the decision." He returns to his seat again, seeing that Linda has done the same. "It's a no win scenario. No matter how this goes, we are going to lose something. Steph make sure you have story lines in place to deal with Mark and Glen's departure if it comes to that." He watches his daughter nod curtly. "Ok, I think we all need to get some sleep. We have a long few weeks ahead of us." With that the children depart wordlessly as Vince and Linda continue to sit in silence.

Somewhere in Peru, in a small village no one even knows exists save the 20 people that call it home a baby has been crying. The child has been crying for close to a day now. There is a hush in this small village. No other children play outside, the women do not venture far from their grass huts to gather roots and water and the men spend hours around the main fire speaking in a hushed clicking tongue. Every so often someone will glance at the hut of the crying child, then to the sky, and then to the large structure that has existed near this village for as far back as memory can tell. It can't be seen from the sky, nor stumbled on by accident. Like the village you would have to know where you were going to reach either. And if you did, by some unlucky chance, come on it before this day, you would have never left. These people have a purpose set down to them for generations untold. It is etched on the stone tablet set in the middle of the primitive village.

"The Spirit House is ours to protect"

"_We end undeserved eyes"_

"_He comes with the wailing."_

"We end with his completion and the Darkness is all"


	4. Sidetracked

**Disclaimer: **_Figures after this long I should put one up here. I disclaim any claim that I can't claim, and disclaim anyone trying to claim what I can claim, There that should do it._

**A/N: **_Can you believe it? I actually finished this chapter! Believe me when I tell you it was like giving birth to Kane. ;) Between a disabled arm and the mother of all writers blocks I thought I would never find the words for this chapter. Finally I just had to plow through, just to get to the to the other side. So I appolgize from the start as this clearly is not close to my best, but I hope now I can get back into the swing of things._

_I also want to thank everyone that has reviewed since the last chapter. I really truely appreciate it, I also want to thank those that have taken the time to read the story, whether you reviewed or not, you liked it enough to take the time to read it. I appreaciate that just as much._

_Anyway, that's enough of me, on to chapter 4!_

_Enjoy._  
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The passage of an hour finds the two pairs of brothers, ensconced in a motel room somewhere along interstate highway. The room is small and is not helping the frayed nerves of the men within.

Glen has not taken his eyes off of Matt and his brother, who are presently sitting at the only table in the small room, heads together, in low voiced conversation, both men banished there by Mark who has not allowed anyone save Glen near him. Not that the man, who is presently sitting facing the only window in the small room, has said word one to his brother. Glen, who laying on the only other bed in the room moves his gaze form the Hardys to his brother's back. He does not need his empathic senses to know his brother is tense, but there is something else bothering him. He can feel his brother's depression like it was a tangible cloak draped over his massive frame; and he can feel it is not the same depression Mark has been dealing with over the loss of his family. Something new has caused the older man to sink into this new funk, something the older Hardy knows about. And the fact that Matt knows something about Mark that he, Glen, does not has the large man feeling unexpected jealousy towards the elder Hardy.

"Ok Mark that's it, you want to tell me what's going on?" Glen waits to see if his brother will respond, after all, he did say he would explain everything once they had left the hospital, something that took longer then they wanted. The staff was not going to just left Jeff leave after being in a coma for nearly a day, not without his attending doctor's go ahead. And hour later after the man had come and examined the younger man, the doctor was very reluctant to allow him to leave, luckily it was Matt that reminded them all that they could not keep Jeff there if he did not want to be. So it took no time from that point for the quartet to have the release papers seen to and be on their way. But once they were out the door and had found Mark's stolen car, still in the parking lot and had drove off, Mark had fallen into the silent brooding that had stayed with him up to this point. Glen knew he had to jar his older brother out of it soon, once the older man drifted to far down into his habitual melancholy, it was a chore to drag him out.

"Did you hear me Mark?" Glen stands reaches out and violently yanks his brother's shoulder forcing Mark to swing around. This was of course Glen's intention, what took him and the other two in the room by surprise was that Mark continued to swing around his fist set and connecting with his brother's jaw, sendind the large man falling backwards on to the adjacent bed. Yet even that was not the most shocking for the trio. What made both Hardys jump from their seat at the table and rush over to pull Glen away from his brother, followed by all three retreating to the, relative, safety of the door, were the older man's eyes. They were not their usual gray-green, nor the odd gray, not even the pure white when his powers were invoked. All they saw was a deep dark black void that seemed to have no depth. Each man stood, wishing to turn away, to not look into those empty sockets; yet they found they could not. It was as if their very souls were being drawn over the distance that separated them from the man they called friend or brother.

They stood such for what seemed an eternity, held mesmerized by something unseen within the depths of the void that now filled the place once held by Mark's usually cold orbs. Each man feels more then sees that there is a horror with in that void. A horror that was less of a physical nature but one born of a soul older then the existence of man. A soul that was power, a soul that defined evil and good and the lack there of all at the same time. A soul without conscience, void of regret, denied the need to understand anything beyond its own existence. Somehow, within each man they knew that the creature they faced, the being who's eyes they were held in thrall to, was no longer the man called Mark Calaway. This entity had no name, no connection to the race of man. They matter to it, as the flea matters to a comet streaking through the heavens.

Ready to bolt out the door behind them they watch as physical form of the man they knew raises from the place it had been resting since arriving in the room, and stood purposefully towards them. Jeff fumbles quickly for the handle to the door his near panic making the task near impossible. As Mark's body, for that is the best way to refer to the form before them, did not stop its forward progress, the three are forced to move away from the door, once they realize they are not even registering to the walking enigma. Once they are no longer in it's path Mark's body reaches the door and does something that nearly makes his companions shudder; as he stops for a moment then fades from sight.

"What the hell just happened?" Asks Jeff in a low terror filled voice, "Did Mark just fade away? Why did he hit Glen AND WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIS EYES!" His words raised in pitch and timbre as he spews question after question finding he was shaking and could not stop. Rapidly he looks from Glen to Matt, seeing that he was going to get no answer from either man. A conclusion Glen had not come to, as he turns, grabs Matt by his shirt and slams the young man against the wall.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YO DO TO MY BROTHER? WHAT WAS IT YOU HAD HIM DO IN THAT HOSPITAL ROOM?" Glen roared at Matt the smaller man turning pale at the utter fury he can see in the mismatch eyes of the enraged behemoth. Glen had seen his brother go through many changes, get taken over by his very own inner darkness, but this was different, this was something else. In the past he could still feel his brother no matter how far down into evil and darkness he had plunged, there was always this spark in his eyes, a feeling that Glen would pick up that would reassure him that his brother was somehow still there waiting to reemerge. But that 'thing' that left was not Mark, it held nothing of his brother. There was no light in those eyes, if they could be called that. No spark for Glen to pick up, nothing but this feeling of antiquity something the large man had never felt in all his years; antiquity and darkness. He does not want to even think what this means for his brother, he does not want to think that the one thing his brother fears, a fear he would never admit to, was coming to pass, that Mark had finally lost to the Darkness within him. He had to know what Matt knew.

So he took to shaking the boy, even though he could see the panic in the young man's eyes. He ignores what his power was telling him, that under the panic and fear the smaller man was feeling, he was as confused about the situation as Glen was. But Glen could not except that, his powers must be wrong, someone had to have the answer at this moment Matt was the only one that could provide it, despite what his own ability was telling him. He was so determined to shake an answer out of Matt that he was completely unaware that with each shake his anger was raising. That he was slowly not seeing the young man that had become something of a friend for the short time they were together, and had, somehow, become very close to his brother. No all he was starting to see was a source of information, and he was going to beat that information out of that source. Glen's mind was slipping once more, as it did in the ring when Jeff was attacked, the fire that was the manifestation of his anger and emotions started to rage even brighter then they had a few days ago. It was clear Glen would kill Matt Hardy to get information he soon would no longer know he wanted.

But again a soft touch on his arm drew the berserk man back from the brink of madness. Again he awoke to find Jeff standing near him, looking up into his eyes, frightened tears streaming down his face. This time Glen felt as if he could not breath, as if all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room, his heart pounded violently in his chest as his nerveless finger lost their grip on the unfortunate Matt, who slumped to the floor; barely conscious. Glen could not speak, he could not get enough air in his lunges. He wanted to scream but all he could muster was a horse wheeze. He was engulfed in a nameless panic yet it had a name; he knew it had a name. He wanted to call that name, but he did not know how. He was failing; he had fail. He was the protector; he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to be protected. His mother; his brother. He should be doing something; he should be saving something, someone.

The panic Glen was lost to was only slightly more intense then the one experienced by the young man at his side. Jeff could not stop the tears flowing down his face. They partly flowed over fear for his brother's life at Glen's hands, but there was another reason, his ability to tap into the thoughts of the brothers, had kicked into to overdrive and he was being drawn in the big man's own panic attack. It was not that he saw words, or heard voices, what he got from Glen were feelings and pictures that flashed by so fast he could not hold on to one long enough to identify it. It was like a maddening collage of faces, places, and events, all coupled with intense emotions, like love, happiness, fear and despair. But one emotion seemed to dominate all the others, one feeling, one thought; hopelessness. "He's lost hope." The young man realizes in a sudden moment of clarity, "I have to help him, I have to give him back hope; but how?" Once Jeff locks onto this notion, he finds he is no longer being dragged along in Glen's emotional storm. The feelings no longer are intermixed with his own; making them a nearly unrecognizable mass, indistinguishable from his own. He can feel which fears are his and which he is experiencing from his large friend. Though the images are still rushing by at break neck pace, some are visible for long enough he can make them out a bit. A picture of a young boy with corn colored hair, a woman with a smile that makes Jeff's heart sore with love and a feeling of peace, a younger Paul Bearer, and older man with a stern and imposing visage so reminiscent of Mark it makes Jeff's breath catch in his throat. Then there is the last image. He cannot make out the face, yet he knows that is what it is, it is as if the face is clouded in a dark foreboding mist of darkness and evil. It is this image that is linked to Glen's feeling of hopelessness. Somehow this 'person' is the driving force behind all that has been transpiring and the most disturbing of all; Glen knows this person intimately.

This revelation hits the young Hardy like a brick. This 'being' for Jeff knows it is not human in any sense of the word, is as much a part of Glen's life as his brother or father. This being is the orchestrator of all the hardship that has plagued the brothers lives since they day they were conceived, maybe even before. "How is this guy? What does he have to do with all this and why doesn't Glen even know he knows him?" Jeff keeps repeating this question to himself, hoping an answer would present itself of such repetition. He feels deep in his gut, that once this mystery is solved so many more questions will be answered, including his place in all that is transpiring since the death of Mark's family. For know though, he has to help Glen, he has to bring the big man out of his despair. For without Glen's help they will not be able to find and help Mark.

A few hundred miles away, in a loft in Chelsea, a neighborhood in New York City, three young people are standing in stunned silence. The loft is the usual trendy lower west side abode, a large open space partitioned off, with screens, hanging blinds, and statuary. Though this one's decorations might stand out a bit from the rest. The walls are painted in varying shades of purple, red and black. A mural takes up the expanse of one long wall, depicts different scenes of magical creatures, both known and unknown. Demons, and Devils, dance around Angles and Cherubs; Animal headed men cavorted with unspeakable horrors. Religious symbols from Roman Catholic, Islamic and Judaic, as well as Celtic, Native American and Sumerian adorn the walls. About the place statuaries one would expect to see in an occult book or bible store sit in places of honor, each wreathed in over head lighting; to show their importance in the loft. Along the walls of the loft shrines and alters are set, some placed in such odd angles that one has to believe the placement was as equal importance as the structures themselves. Yet it is when one finally looked down or up, that the most striking aspect of this large room came into focus. On the ceiling, in certain locations, were painted designs and geometric shapes that could not be mistaken for anything but ritualistic circles. On the floor, more designs become apparent; especially the one that has the spot of prominence in the room a complicated array of shapes, symbols and forms drawn in red, black, purple and white.

It is around this large circle that the three souls now stand, eyes wide in shock with a hint of fear. Nearest to the circle stands a young woman of African descent, as evident by her light mocha skin color. If Paul Bearer were to stand in the room at this moment he would be impressed with her garb as she is attired in the most stunningly accurate reproduction of the ritualistic drapings worn by the priestesses of a long dead demon-worshiping cult. Off to her right at a different point of the circle from the young woman, stands a young man, his ethnic heritage is less evident save for the fact he is Caucasian and most probably of European decent. The young man is attired similarly to the woman, though the conniving Bearer would know he is, in fact, dressed in the clothing of the priest of that same cult. The last of the trio is clearly a man of Native American blood, possessing the distinctive dusky skin coloring and smooth glossy black hair. He is also obviously older then the other two by a few years, and he is dressed as a High Priest of the cult. Another thing that Paul Bearer would recognize in this room, if he were present, that would be to correctly identify the circle at the trio's feet to be that of a summoning circle; he would also recognize the new arrival in the middle of that circle and the object of the open, wide mouthed, gaze of the loft's inhabitants, as his wayward charge Mark.

The two younger of the three reluctantly drag their gazes from the naked form of Mark Calaway that stands, unmoving, in the middle of the loft, whips of mist rise lazily off his body. His hair, that had been whirling about his unclothed form when he first appeared is, as if caught in a raging hurricane, was slowly settling gently about his broad shoulder. They now look to their older companion who, to their dismay, looks less then reassuring as he too is stunned by the this turn of events.

Finally they all return their eyes to their unexpected visitor, at a loss what their next move is to be. This scene last for nearly five minutes before the oldest of the three, comes to the conclusion something had to be done, and at this point he was the only one that seemed ready to do it. Yet he was still in the dark as to what. He glances back to the book that has been at his feet since the ritual they had been attempting had ended. The ritual that seemed to have actually worked when the summoning circle they had painstakingly replicated in their loft, with the intent of contacting one of the lower-level demons that the cult that the three had decided to revive, glowed to life and the whole loft was filled with a chill wind and the howls of the damned. The truth of the matter, as is with most such situations of young people seeking for some direction in their lives, or a new and different distraction, these young souls, decided their path in life was to be found in the occult and new and old religions.

It was by chance they came upon the lost writings of a very old and not so well known cult that worshiped and communed with demons. Even thought they were young they were not foolish enough to meddle with forces they did not understand to their fullest so they took some time to research this newly rediscovered sect and what little they were able to unearth convinced them that they had stumbled on to what they had been seeking all their lives. The discipline of this cult was an answer to their desire for structure and the type that appeal to who they were. Most of the rituals connected to this cult had aspects of self-discovery and inner understanding that all thinking beings desire. And so, after three years of studying what little they could find on the cult, they had started practicing some of the rituals they found in one well-preserved book from the cult's past. Up to this point none of the rituals brought any demons to their beck and call, but the ritual practices themselves served to fulfill what they truly sought from that and that was inner peace and understanding of themselves. So they pushed on, trying more and more complicated spells and rituals. Feeling more and more in tuned with the cult's philosophy and beliefs. They had even gotten to the point where they found themselves attracting others to their small group.

But tonight, tonight it was just the original three that sought to try a new spell they recently came across, one that seemed different to the others they had tried up to this point. For one, this spell did not require anything sacrificed to achieve its goal. It also specifically required three to perform; two males and one female. It seemed destined that they should find the ritual when they did, as it had to be performed on this day at this time. So they made sure no others would be in the loft this eve. The eve they would finally see all their efforts rewarded. They would bring forth a demon to do their bidding.

Yet the being that stood before them now, looked nothing like the demons and other-realmed beings they had seen in the pages of their books. This, 'creature' looked for all intents and purposes, like a man, a very large man.

The young woman is the first to break out of her stunned conditioning looking once more to the High Priest. "Ken what went wrong?" she gestures towards the unclothed Mark, "That's not a demon, that's a man…" she turns back to look over Mark's form, "…a very good looking man, but defiantly not a demon. I thought you had the ritual down?"

The High Priest, Ken, grunts once and shrugs. "Hey I did everything it said in the book." He looks around at the circle and all the required items for the ritual and nods, "Everything is in place, I didn't miss anything" he shoots a look to the other young man in the room, "Did you miss a beat, Sam?"

"What the hell man!" Sam slams his headdress to the floor in apparent anger as he glares at Ken, "Why is it when one of these damn things goes south you always look at me? NO! I DID NOT MISS A DAMN BEAT!" he then jerks his thumb over to the young woman, "What about Ashanti, why not ask if she miss a word?"

Ashanti, the young woman in question, only smirks as she turns her attention back to their visitor. "You know guys, he looks awful familiar" She looks back to he male companions, both of whom give the naked giant still standing in the middle of the circle a close look.

"Don't recognize him," comes Sam's response, "but man look at all the tats. I wonder what BSK stands for."

Ken moves up close to Ashanti narrowing his eyes a bit. "Yeah those are actual English words on his belly, and that stuff on his right arm," he squints a bit as he did not want to cross the circle's borders, "There's a castle and another set of words…something…something about 'another soul'…or something like that." he shrugs looking to Ashanti then Sam, "This ain't no demon I ever heard or read about" he frowns returning to his previous place, picking up the book, from which he had discovered the ritual, quickly leafing through the pages, finally sighing as he sets the large tome on a table nearby. "The ritual says, clearly, it will bring the 'Devourer of Souls and Returner of the Power Eternal'" he looks back at Mark, "he sure doesn't look like a devourer of souls, maybe a few Big Macs and a Coors"

They all laugh, in spite of the bizarre nature of the situation, as Ken sighs, throws up his hands and walks over to a black couch nearby and sits down hard shaking his head. "Man this just reeks!" he gestures to the circle and the man within, "I would have bet my fuckin life this would have worked. I read the damn book over and over. Made sure this would work, did all that damn research and we still end up with some bogus ritual from a bunch of deluded fools thinking they were in touch with 'powers beyond the norm'" He makes finger quotes in disgust, slamming back against the couch with a look of frustration plainly written on his features. He glances up only when he feels the couch cushion dip and sees Ashanti taking a place by his side with an unexpected smirk along her full dark painted lips, giving him a look he knows too well. It is the look saying he is missing something. "What?"

Ashanti just sighs as she leans back copying his posture and looks towards the circle and the man within. "Oh nothing, 'Mr. Drama Queen'" She turns to Sam and gives him a conspiratorial wink as it is clear he too has come to the same mysterious conclusion that has still evaded their fellow summoner. She watches Sam walk closer to the circle and Mark, looking him over contemplatively.

"So, uh, what do we do with him now?" Sam turns and directs his question to Ken who sits up with a puzzled look.

"What do you mean 'what do we do with him?' We get him some close and s…" it was at this point Ken's eyes go wide as he comes to a realization, smacking himself hard in the forehead with the palm of his hand. "Damn I'm a moron!"

"Ya getting no argument from me dude." Comes Sam's quick comeback as Ashanti laughs behind her hand." He walks over and takes a seat himself in a plush chair that will allow him to continue to keep an eye on their guest. "Took you long enough to realize this guy would not be here 'if' the spell did not work. He might not be the demon, but my guess he is connected to it somehow. All we have to do is find out how."

Ken finally stands once more walking slowly over to the circle obviously in thought, he then turns back to his companions, "Ok, this is what we do. First we see if there is any mention of him in the book" he looks back at Mark, "I mean those tats still says he's human, or partially, the tats might be a clue to where the power can be found, or how he is connected." He goes back to the book opening it up once more glancing to the younger members in the room, "Well what you two waiting for? We got some researching to do, get a move on" His tone belies his commanding words. His mood has lifted now he realizes their effort is not yet wasted, that there is still a chance they might still find a true demon to place under their service as well as the power that demon promises to reveal.

Ashanti nods, stands and walks over to built-in shelving unit filled with all sorts of books both arcane and mundane. The unit takes up, pretty much, all of the particular wall and reaches from floor to ceiling. Slowly she runs a finger over the spines of several before she stops at a fairly large tome, sliding it out of it snug space between a short book that seems like it had been published back when dinosaurs walked the earth and another large book, with a spine with the look and texture of leather. She moves casually past the circle, giving the man within a short glance before taking a seat a large oaken table, resting the heavy book down as she, herself, settles in a rather comfortable chair and proceeds to peruse the pages.

By this time Sam had already gathered a few books for his own use and was now sitting cross-legged in front of the circle. Sparing, not a few, glances towards Mark. His look held a slight hint of suspicion and speculation when they would settle on the large naked man, who, so far, had not moved or uttered a single word since arriving.

Several hours pass in silence till Sam interrupts it with a grunt. "Ya know this guy gives me the willies" he comments looking back to his friends, "He hasn't said anything, or moved. Just stands there like some kinda statue." He returns his gaze to the object of discussion. "I swear he looking right through me, or more to the point, in me" he sets the book he had been looking at down and stands, stretching a bit to get the kinks out, from sitting still for so long. He proceeds to walk around the circle grunting once more, as the giant within does not move a muscle in reaction to his movements. "See he don't flinch, his eyes don't even seem to move, but if ya in his line of vision I swear it feels like he's watchin ya, looking into your souls or something; this guy can't be human"

Ken, who had stopped his own studying to watch and listen to Sam, quirks the corners of his mouth, a tic that denotes he is considering something. "Well it's clear from what I have got from the book, that this guy is somehow connected to what we were trying to reach,' he sighs as he closes the book, "still don't say why or how he is connected, but it's clear he ain't human."

"Well then, he's ours," Ashanti chimes in with a smile as she joins her male companions. "And since he is, I say we name him. I was thinking of calling him Uwaiano Kwa Tani, loosely translates to "Link to Power", cause that is how I see him" she smiles and shrugs at the look her friends give her, "we could call him Tani for short."

"Look Ash, this is not a game here" Ken walks over to where Sam is standing near the circle, "If we pull this off we get a some major power, if we mess this up, we could get dead" he looks back to the young woman his expression showing how serious he is, "even worse the whole world could end". He thumbs back to the motionless form behind him, "This...thing…is some kind of link alright, but I'm not sure he's a link to what we thought.

Ken looks to Sam confusion written along his creased brow, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was able to find one of those tats of his in the book, it's hidden nicely in those decorative ones that don't really look like anything in particular along his left shoulder" Sam says as he turns and points to the area he is referring to on Mark, "The book only reference says it's the "Mark of Salvation and Destruction", or something long those lines, the translation seemed a bit rough." He looks back to the other two, "coupling that with the other stuff we have found out about the ritual and I'd say if we don't take this slow and careful, we could bring on a world of hurt."

Ashanti's smile lessens only a bit as she nods, "Ok, still…" She walks closer to the ring staring at the unmoving man within, "Till we know what is what, let's see if we can, at least, speak with him" She deliberately moves into Mark's line of sight. Keeping her voice even, as not to startle him, "Um…hi there…uh…Tani…" She waits to see if speaking directly to the giant will rouse him out of his near statue-like pose. "My name's Asha…" she stops, short remembering her studies, "My names Ash. We…me and my friends here, we summoned you. Do you understand, you answer to us…" again she stops waiting for a reaction of some sort.

The seconds drag on so long that she nearly gasps when the man she faces blinks for the first time since his arrival. Mark turns his head slightly to zero in on the two men, who are slightly unnerved by his movements. Then without warning he makes his first step, moving slowly, but purposely in Ashanti's direction. The distance is short, comparatively, but it seems like a lifetime to the three humans in the room, as they find they cannot move from the spots they stand in, nor can they speak or cry out. Beads of sweat appear along the brows of the men, as they put all their will into moving, to rush to Ashanti's aid as it becomes all too clear to them the giant beings intended destination point. All hope that the circle will hold him at bay is dashed as he walks over the threshold with no hesitation.

He comes to a sudden halt before the small woman as her dark eyes rise up to meet his. In spite of the situation she finds herself in she can not help herself, but admire the naked form before her, amazed at the lack of self consciousness with which he holds himself, considering his current lack of covering.

All that is gone from her thoughts at what she hears next as in a low deep voice the being they had summoned begins to speak for the first time, his words slow and halting.

"Who…are…you?"

Ashanti swallows nervously but answers; repeating what she had first said to him while he was still within the circle, "I am Ash…" she is about to say more but is interrupted by him.

"Where…am…I"

She looks to her friends then back to the massive being before her, "You are in New York City, The village, this is our loft…our home." She watches as he takes his attention from her to look about his surroundings, then slowly returns it back to her, in that short reprieve from his gaze Ashanti realizes the power that is in his eyes. While he looked upon her, she felt small, yet assured of who she was and that she was safe in his presence, when his gaze was gone, she just felt small.

The silence returns as no one seemed willing to speak, till the tall man before Ashanti speak, though this time there is hint of uncertainty in his voice, a voice now hinting at a southern drawl, "Why…am…I…here, who…am…I?

In the hidden library of Paul Bearer, the once rotund man sits restlessly staring into his scyring pool, he is less confident then had been only a day ago. His glances into the shadows come more often and they do not hold the same conniving look they held before. His plans are in jeopardy. His life is at risk. His 'ally' is growing impatient and angry. He has lost tracking of his wayward son. But the thing that is more important, the thing that concerns him most is that Mark seems to have ceased to exist.


	5. Explanations

**Disclaimer: **_Ok I admit it. I don't own anything that did not get created by me. Not saying Vince owns it all, but I know I don't._

**A/N: **_Well folks I was able to get another chapter done and out. Me so happy! :D Again a tough writing at some points, and I think it might not be all that great a chapter, as nothing really happens, but I felt it was the right chapter to write. I hope you all like it._

_As always thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I appreciate you all with no doubt._

_Anyway, on with the next chapter! Enjoy.  
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The sun has risen and now sheds its life-giving warmth upon a new part of the world. Birds flitter here and there, seeking small insects and, for the larger ones, bigger prey. Night life gives way to the beings of the day as the, sometimes, eerie cries that fill the air in the dark, submit their place to the sounds of greetings that herald the return of light.

A new day.

New hopes and new possibilities.

Such is not the case for the three men huddled around the small battered table in the small dingy hotel room. For these men hope seems like the petals of a flower that are ripped from the bud by the uncaring winds.

For Jeff Hardy many things weighed heavily on him. He blames himself for Glen's murderous rampage in the ring. If he had been more aware of his surroundings Randy would not have been able to blindside him and knock him for a loop. Batista would not have gotten involved the way he did and Glen would not have gone berserk nearly killing both men. his hospitalization was the catalyst for Mark's drastic actions, actions that his brother has lead both Glen and himself to understand elicited a great toll for the older man. What that toll was Matt still refused to divulge even in the face of Glen's mounting ire. Whatever it was, it was a price that fate has charged Jeff as well, and he now pays with, nearly, unbearable guilt.

Matt's somber mood had a clearly different origin. His guilt came from his own selfish actions, at least in his eyes, of begging Mark to perform a ritual he knew would cost his friend much in the long run. Three times now Mark has been in a position that required him to call on powers he would otherwise never would have, and each of those times, he lost something. One of those losses Matt was aware of, the other…well Mark refused to this day to inform his younger friend what that other loss was. But the spell was not a minor one and what the large man lost would not be minor either. Now this was the third time and he, Matt, was again in the dark, once more, as to what his friend had lost, but he is sure what transpired in the room just a day ago, was connected to it somehow.

For Glen so many things weighed heavily on him. With his brother's sudden disappearance, not to mention his mysterious transformation, add on Glen's actions in the ring days ago, as well as his irrational mauling of Matt, he wonders if the universe is conspiring against them all. He knows his father is most likely searching for Mark and himself right now, and he shudders to think what will happen if he finds Mark before they do. Glen is well aware he is only secondary to Paul's needs and plans. His was only put under the control of the Urn to keep him out of the way of whatever his father and his ally have planned. His brother is the true focus of their efforts, the only puppet they need to fulfill their vile endeavors.

He knows, right now, Mark is at the mercy of those two evil creatures without Jeff's 'masking' ability. It took Glen a bit, but he has finally figured out part of what Jeff's 'ability' is. His ability to hide his thoughts from Mark and the fact that while around the younger Hardy he has no compulsion to continue following the will of his father, or the urn seems to denote an uncontrolled masking aura about the boy. What else the kid can do, he is still unsure of, but, for now, what he knows he can do is enough. It will give Glen time to find his brother and determine what has happened to him.

At first he feared that the Darkness that was always inches away from swallowing his brother whole had finally won, and his brother was, once more, a monster. But now he does not feel that is the case. He has been around his brother when he has given himself over to the darkness within him. He was evil, he had tremendous power, but he was always cognizant of his surroundings, of who he was; the creature that disappeared from the room yesterday, was not. It was, almost, like some mindless well of power with no will, or consciousness. When he looked into its eyes, he saw nothing; it was like looking throw a glass window into a void of nothingness. Had he lost his brother for good?

He glances over to the two Hardys, their emotions were all over the place, but one topped the list and screamed out at the large man like a banshee; guilt. Both felt they had a reason to feel guilty over what has happened with his brother. And for a bit there Glen was ready to agree. But with the dawning of a new day and the night behind them, he knows neither young man was to blame. What happened with his brother, might have happened in due time, it just happened sooner then it would have.

Glen believes this based on some conclusions he has come to except about their current situation. Mark's part in this whole situation is more then just a gofer for two evil bastards. His place is far more pivotal then, even, his brother realizes, or realized, it is clear, right now, Mark realizes little of anything.

BAM!

With all the frustration he has been trying to hold down Glen slams his fist so hard onto the table the wood surface splinters and the two young men sharing it with him, jump from their chairs in panic. '_Where the hell are you mark!'_ Glen screams in his mind, hoping beyond hope some part of his older brother can hear and come back to him. _'Damn you! I can't protect or help you if your now here.' _ A timid hand on his shoulder draws eyes up to green eyes not so different from his wayward sibling.

"Easy big guy, we'll find him" Jeff nods back to his brother who is watching the exchange from behind him, "the three of us will."

Matt moves past Jeff to stand on the other side of the seated man, "Between the three of us, I am sure we will think of some way to find Mark" he smirks in spite of the situation, "Besides your brother is too big to stay hidden for long, trust me I've seen him try" He grins at the confused look the two other men give him. "Long story that can wait for another time" he pats Glen on the shoulder in a companionably way that Jeff eyes go wide at the seeming casualness of it, "between's Glen's familial connection to Mark and Jeff's ability to hear his thoughts, all we really need to do is get close enough for you two to pick up on him." He walks over to his backpack as Glen and Jeff pass each other questioning looks. Both men, once more, wonder what happened between the time they left Mark and Matt and when the two came barging into Jeff's room, looking like they had aged a year.

For Jeff it was the imperceptible changes in his brother, how he seemed so relaxed around Glen enough to touch him in such a familiar way. In the past Matt would be as uncertain around the brothers as anyone else, how could that change in a mere 24 hours? Then was his, seeming, familiarity with what Mark could do, magic-wise. In the short time they four men were together Jeff got very little insight into either elder man's abilities, their talk tended to shy away from such topics. Not consciously, it just never seemed to get to that point, as it was more a growing together as friends. Surely, in time, they would have gotten to the point of sharing what they could do; beyond what was already reveled it just had not gotten that far before they had to separate. 24 hours later Jeff was still in the dark and his brother acted like he knew it all. He vowed he would find out what happened between his brother and Mark in that short time.

Glen sat switching his attention from one Hardy brother to the other, finally deciding to settle on the one that puzzled him the most; Matt. "What does this kid know about Mark's powers that I don't?" he thought to himself, "he asks like this has happened before, or something like it, but neither of them have been around us long enough to know half of what we can do." Glen finds himself scratching at the stubble on the top of his head that usually gets the least amount of shaving. "I wonder does this have something to do with the Darkside?" His thoughts in that direction are interrupted as Matt walks back over to the table with several objects.

Carefully Matt sets down a large ornate bowl he has fished out of Mark's pack, three small white candles with golden engravings and a bottle of water.

"What are those for?" asks Jeff as he eyes the items curiously, "Planning on doing some scrying?" He laughs looking over to Glen, who smirks back at him. The laughter and the smile disappear when both men look back at the dark haired Hardy's un-amused face. Ignoring the two, Matt walks over to his pack this time and retrieves a long braided cord with an attached silver coin. "Ok bro, your starting to concern me now" chimes in Jeff, once more, "I'm thinking you've watched to many episodes of Charmed, who do you think you are Phoebe?" He ignores the confused look Glen shoots him. No sense explaining about Beth and her short stint of watching the show; he's not sure it would be taken well anyway.

Matt sighs looking over the items he has gathered, happy enough to ignore his brother's teasing and skepticism. He knows this is probably their only chance of getting a fix on Mark's location, at least till they get closer, and then can rely on Glen or Jeff's own abilities to sense his exact whereabouts. As the other two watched he opens the water bottle emptying it's contents into the bowl, till it is half filled, setting the bottle to the side once it is closed. He then places the candles around the bowl at points that would be reminiscent of a triangle; lighting each in turn from the top one then the one to the left and then to the right. The scent that comes from the burning wick then the candles themselves elicits a small smile from the young man as he sets aside the lighter he had used to set the flames alight.

"What are you smiling about?" Asks Jeff as he spots the out of place emotion cross his brother's face.

"Nothing, just a memory" this is the only answer he gives his young brother as the smile fades and he sets himself about the task of finding the wayward elder Calaway brother. Setting his mind to think solely of Mark and nothing and no one else he holds the coin above the water twirling it gently between his forefinger and thumb of his right hand. He knows he was never really good at this type of sympathetic magic, but it was all he had; unlike his brother, there really was nothing abnormal about him, something 'she' told him she loved about him.

At this point both Glen and Jeff were staring in utter confusion. Jeff as he wondered if his brother had lost it during their time away, did he really think he was going to find Mark this way. He knew what he was attempting, it was called scrying, thought the younger Hardy thought it was done with a map; oh and that it was something characters on TV did. Even with all he has seen since coming to know the truth about the two brothers and his own fantastic ability, he still had a hard time grasping all that that implied about magic and the supernatural. Yet here was his brother, his very logical brother, at that, performing some kind of magic straight out of 'Charmed'.

Glen, on the other hand, knew very well what Matt was doing was very feasible, he just did not understand how Matt could even know about it, or how to do it. Was Matt holding his own secret all this time? Was Matt actually some kind of wizard? He unconsciously shakes his head in the negative. No, if Matt had known about magic before this, his brother would have known and he would not have kept that secret from Glen, or would he? Sometimes Glen could not help but feel there were some things that Mark still refused to share with his younger brother, things in Mark's past, things about Mark, things he was sure his older brother still felt Glen could not handle. It's kept them from truly being as close as Glen always wanted. How it was now was nice, but whenever he felt a door close between he and his brother, he is reminded they will never have a fully open relationship. He is drawn from his somber thoughts when Matt gives off an angry grunt and slams the coin to the table, nearly dislodging the candles.

"No luck huh?" he asks with a smirk, "Not sure how you knew about scrying, but could have told you it would not work on my brother." He stands and walks over to gaze out of the window, "When Mark's not 'himself', no amount of magic can find him"

"What do you mean 'not himself'?" asks Jeff.

"I mean when he's consumed by the Darkness" he sighs turning from the window, "It hasn't happened in a long time, thankfully, but there's a lot of bad in my big brother. He does a good jump of suppressing it, holding it in control, but there are time it controls him" he looks from one Hardy to the other, "Then there are time when he lets it out of his own accord." He frowns suddenly, "thought this time it don't feel like that, it just don't feel like he is being shoved to the side by his darker nature, it feels like he just ain't there."

Matt nods as he blows out the candles and goes to empty the bowl of its contents. "That makes sense. I couldn't get any thing out of the scrying, not even a residue of his presence in this room, nothing." He comes back from the bathroom with the bowl using a towel to dry it out, "Not saying I'm a master at this stuff, but I've been able to track down Mark without to much difficulty, but not this time." He says the last with a confused tone to his voice.

"Ok that's fucking it!" Glen slams his head down on the table as she pushes himself off his chair stumping up to Matt and grabs him by the collar, nearly making him drop the bowl in shock, "Time for some answers and this time your brother ain't gonna be able to get me off your sorry ass if you don't tell me how you know all this stuff, why you and Mark are dressed like your form Middle Earth and how come the two of you look like you've been gone for year or more."

Jeff stands suddenly afraid for his brother, though he can tell Glen is in full control of himself, at the moment, and truth be told he'd like some answers as well, so he does not make any move, at least not yet.

Matt realizes he had better tell Glen something before he finds himself making a new door in the nearby wall. "Ease up Glen, it's not that big a deal, or secret" He swallows hard as he tries to find the right words, "When you and Jeff left, you know we all had to get to where we had to be as soon as possible, you and Jeff," he nods to his brother, "and me and Mark, so we had to take that trip through the Darkside, right?" He waits as Glen nods curtly biting his lower lip, "Well, it's like this, your brother has a very bad sense of direction, and well…." Again he hesitates before going on, seeing the massive man in whose grip he is in, starting to get angry once more, "Um…Well, Mark kept missing, each time we came out, we would not even be close to the location of the first spot, and well turns out he can't just go in, and jump right back out all the time, it's like a reset has engage" he glances over to his brother then back to Glen, who, it seems is starting to relax as he slowly lets the young man down on to his own feet, causing Matt to blow out a relieved breath.

Glen shakes his head holding up a hand for Matt to hold off on the rest of his tale as he returns to his seat, noting Jeff doing the same. "Ok let me guess, the reset too about a year to engage?"

Matt shakes head as she straightens his clothing and quickly replaces the bowl before something happens to it, "No, not all at once, but with all the jumps we made, it pretty much added up to that, see on the Darkside…uh…side, time flows way differently then here, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, we just got a lot of points were the time was flowing faster." He takes a seat of his own now, happy that the tension was much less then it was just a few minutes before. "In that time I got to learn a lot about magic and powers and stuff like that. That's how I know what Mark can do, well some of it anyway." He lays a head on Glen's arm causing the giant man to look into his eyes slightly confused, "In that time I grew to care about your brother a lot, and to get to know him better, we became friends, as funny as that sounds." He smiles happy to see the man in front of him return that smile. "I never really knew how funny Mark could be, or how clueless. I mean for a master of magicks and all, he can really be naive at times." He laughs to himself, drawing incredulous looks from Jeff and Glen.

"Ok, next time I get to hang out with Mark and you baby sit Glen." Jeff says with a smile, not wanting to hurt the large man's feelings.

"Hey, no problem little brother, Mark's more a handful then you would think." He winks at Glen as the other man smiles a bit lowering his head.

Glen can't help but feel unfamiliar feeling of joy at that moment. For so long it were just him and Bearer then just him then, at long last he and Mark, sort of. But never anyone else, even when he associated with other, had what many would call 'friends' they were never that close, the secret made sure of that. Yet now he sat at table, with two other people who knew his secret, who knew his brother's secret and they were not running out the nearest door to get away from them, in fact they were doing all they could to find his lost brother, while joking about which of the brothers they wanted to hang out with. 'Am I dreaming? Is this just a fantasy I will wake up in my bed, still a monster hiding what he is?' These thoughts run, unbidden, in his head, threatening to dash the good feelings that had just been born in his heart, then a light touch on his arm brings his head up and his mismatched orbs meet the warm green of another's.

"Hey, no thinking like that big guy." Jeff winks playfully, seeing Glen remembering his ability, "This is not a dream, a fantasy and you're not a monster, and I will kick anyone's ass that ever calls you any such thing ever again." He nods over to his brother, "Both of us will"

For a few minutes no one says a word, enjoying that pure moment of camaraderie, then Glen sighs, stands and goes to lay down on one of the beds, causing the two younger men to share curious glances.

"Lets get some sleep" he says as he reaches out to turn the light from the lamp off, "Matt's not gonna find Mark his way, and we can't seem to sense him, that means he ain't close, but he ain't on the Darkside either, I'm sure my father don't have him," he stops as he watches the hardy brother follow his suggestion turning off the last light and take spots on the other bed together, "So where ever he's gone it's go to still be on this plane. It also means, since he has not tried to contact us, he ain't himself still." He rolls over to look at the two men with a grunt, before going on." My guess he got yanked somewhere that kind of magic has to be real powerful, from what my brother has told me about transportating magic. I know a trick for tracking that, Mark showed it to me, just incase my father ever tried it on Mark to get him back."

Jeff sits up quickly, "Then why don't we do that now, why are we taking naps?"

Glen shakes his head and chuckles a bit, "Because we need some things I can't get tonight. We have to wait until the stores open, so we might as well get some rest. You just got out of the hospital from being in a coma and your sleeping brother there, needs the rest"

Sure enough Matt was sound asleep. Sleep that had gripped him almost the second his head hit the pillow, causing him to miss most of what Glen had said. "Lets just get some sleep kid, we have a long day tomorrow" With that the large man turns over and is, also soon asleep, followed in little time by Jeff.


	6. Fragile Secrets

**Disclaimer: **_All rights and whatevers belong to whoever owns them._

**A/N: **_At last I finished. I'll tell you all now it's not the best, but I feel it advances the story some. I want to thank, as always those that have read my Magnum Opus, (whatever that means lol) I like, nay, love this story, but it is a b*t*h to write. :( _

_I hope those that have requested more chapters like it and I will do my best to get them out as soon as I can, but as I have said in the first chapter, I'm not good at this, I can't pop them out as fast as far better and more talented writers can, I'll do my best and please know this story is my main story and I will never abandon it, it just might take a few years to finish. LMAO_

Anyway, enjoy chapter 6 of A World of Darkness.  
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"_Where am I?"_

"_Oh, I'm in the basemen where father works"_

"_I…I'm hiding…why am I hiding?"_

"_Oh, it's cause I'm not supposed to be here and if father or Mr. Paul catch me they'll be so mad"_

"_No…I'm listening to something…I'm listening to Mr. Paul talking"_

"_Someone else is talking, who is talking?"_

" _Was it Mr. Paul?"_

"_Yes…no…I think…no…no I remember, it is Mr. Paul and…and…I can't remember"_

"_I think I saw him…it?"_

"_Did they see me?"_

"_I'm scared cause I think they might have…are they coming?"_

"_Oh no!…the door…I have to…they…they're here!"_

"_Is Mr Paul wanting to kill me?_

"_The…what is…no…no…no…it can't be him…please please god, don't make it…HIM!"_

"_Brother, mother…Father! It's…Him...it's..."_

Jeff woke with a start; sitting bolt upright in the bed he was sharing with his brother. He was sweating as if he had just run 30 miles, his heart was pounding in his chest; he could barely catch his breath. The dream! It was a dream, wasn't it? He was confused. He could still feel the fear that gripped him in the dream. He wanted to find his mother, warn her, but it was not his mother, the brother was not his brother, nor was the father his father. It was Glens…no…no not Glen, Kane; he was dreaming Kane's life. No he, he was getting confused. Glen was Kane, or Kane was Glen's real name but Glen did not want to be called Kane. Why couldn't he stop seeing Glen and thinking Kane? It was like something wanted him to, forcing him to, know Glen as Kane. He put his hands up to his head as it started to pound in time with the beating of his heart; it was like the two organs were trying their damnedest to burst their way out of his body.

With a strangled cry the young man rolled from the bed landing on his knees sobbing uncontrollably; the pain almost too much to bare. He could hardly think coherently past the excruciating pain. The ache was so powerful his gut started to churn as nauseas gripped him, adding to his wretched condition. By this point he could not hear past the pounding of the blood in his ears, he could not think past the pain in his head, chest and belly. He was past the point of caring to understand the dream that had led to his current condition, all he wished at this point was that he die, and die soon, so the torment would end. He could not even remember who he was; what his own name was, or where he was, that he had a brother only a few feet away. The brother who was roused from his deep, dreamless, sleep by the pain-filled cry of his sibling; the brother that now held him in his arm trying to fathom what was wrong. Jeff was in so much pain he did not even feel the arms about his body, or hear the panicked questions yelled at him by this very brother.

And panicked Matt was. He could feel violent tremors run through his brother's body as he held him. He called out Jeff's name over and over, but it was as if his younger brother could not hear him, as he moan or screamed in turn. Matt was at a loss as to what to do to help his beloved brother. He turned lost, beseeching eyes to the large man standing above him, praying Glen had an answer to what was happening to Jeff. The look in Glen's eyes held no answers, just despair, confusion and helplessness.

Glen had been awakened from his own rest when he heard Jeff scream. Yet, unlike Matt, he heard the scream both in his ears and his head. The psychic cry was so powerful the pain he felt at it's reception was still a dull ache; an ache that was preventing Glen from being able to focus on the emotions wafting off the youngest Hardy. He felt, with all his being, that if he could read the young boy, he would have an answer to a lot of questions. Till now he could barely get anything from the young man; differing from Mark who could not read the boy at all. The fact he was getting even this sliver of emotion off of Jeff meant something, and the large wrestler knew it. He was frustrated that he was being prevented from getting through and reading him, Glen felt without a shadow of a doubt that this moment in time would not come again, at least not in time. Whatever caused the young man to wake screaming, to be causing all this pain had to have something to do with Mark and, possibly, the mission they were on for his father. It was now up to him to figure it out; and to do that he had to ease Jeff's pain and trying and find out what was going on in the boy's head.

Jeff, his name was Jeff. He was, finally, able to fight past the pain to this extent. He knows who he is; now if only he knew where he was, or why he was in so much agony. Each time he tried to open his eyes there was a blinding light that shot straight to his brain setting the pain to new levels of torment. His throat was painfully raw, no doubt from the screaming. He was sure he was screaming, he just could not hear it past the pounding in his ears, like a bass drummer had set up shop and was practicing for the Macy's Thanksgivings Day Parade. The pain was getting to a point where he was starting to find it difficult to breath. He knew it was getting hard to breath from the feeling of dizziness that was creeping up on him, the only thing he could feel from his chest was a faint constricting pain that mingled into all the other tormenting agony wracking his body.

Something was wrong, very very wrong. Jeff was gasping as if he could not breath and one hand was clutching at his chest. This and the young man's pallid color had his brother over the edge in uncontrolled panic. He could not speak at this point, not even to call to his baby brother, his mind would not function as he shook his sibling, trying to will him to breath, to open his eyes, say something, anything. Jeff was dieing and he knew it.

Glen saw the situation and he knew he had to do something fast or they would lose Jeff Hardy right there in this cheap motel room. He also knew that what ever he did, it would mean ignoring the feeling he had that Jeff held an answer to all their questions. But it was a sacrifice he had to make. His friend's life hung in the balance and he was not going to lose him.

Dropping to his knees besides the elder brother he gripped each side of Jeff's head, completely ignoring the frantic and bewildered look Matt shot him. He did not have time to explain to the elder Hardy brother what he was doing; time was of the essence. He had one shot at this and one shot only. If he made one mistake, one misstep, Jeff would die; or worse. Closing his eyes he allowed his consciousness to slip from the here and now, leaving him unaware of his own surroundings. Slipping into his own mind, deeper, deeper, deeper, till he came to an idealized entrance framing a set of double doors. The large wooden edifice was finely crafted with intricate designs depicting family scenes of joy on one side, and images of death and destruction on the other. At the center, where the two doors met, the scenes seem to mix and mingled into each other, in a maelstrom of contradictory images. At once you would have a smiling woman, being torn apart by a fanged demon with horns and long, stringy, hair. In another a small boy would be tossing a ball to a leering creature engulfed in flames.

Beyond this door Glen holds great treasures and great horrors; memories, both joyous and heartbreaking. Yet that is not all that resides on the other side of this massive portal. Within Glen holds safe access to an ability he has had since childhood. One even his brother has forgotten he possessed. It is this ability for which he has ventured into his own mind to bring forth. It is a power he feared when young and fought alone to lock behind this very entrance when it was not nearly the size it is now, nor as grand. It is a power that nearly drove him crazy during those early days of his life. He remembers the many times, early on, when he would be forced to avoid his family just to maintain his fragile young sanity. It was these times he envied and hated his brother. For Mark, for all his acquired talents of later years, seemed free of anything 'unnatural' while growing up. That did not take away from the fact he was such a strange boy that it took children of strong will to even willingly associate with him, but that was more do to his frequent bouts of melancholy, not to mention his height.

Glen had less trouble with getting friends, but, like his brother, he had just as easy a time losing them.

With an unconscious mental shake Glen brushes away these idle musings as he slips past the portal doors, not needing them to open for his passage. In fact it is his habit of passing through the doors without opening them. Beyond the door wore motes of glowing lights, floating along his mindscape. Glen knew what these motes were and so he made sure to avoid each one till he came to one that was larger then most, and pulsed with an eerie red and green light. With little hesitation Glen's consciousness plunged into the glowing mote, merging, become one as the red and green lights started to pulse faster and faster, till soon it seemed to be but one color…red.

Outside of Glen's body Matt was at a loss as to what to do. His brother's breathing had become a struggle and Glen, had slumped suddenly for no reason. He knew he could do nothing to help his younger brother. He had to hope that whatever Glen was doing, it would save Jeff before it was too late to do so.

Within the mind of Glen the mote's form starts to fluctuate, growing dark red tentacles that squirm about, reaching and contracting as if seeking something to enfold. Slowly they move towards the doorway, seeping easily past the closed portal, moving between cracks and between the meetings of the two double doors. In the living world Glen's body suddenly jerks forward as his hands clamp down on the sides of Jeff's head, a faint red glow encasing, first, his hands then the boys head as well. The sight gives Matt only a moment's pause. If this had been a year ago, he truly would have been disconcerted to the point of fright, but he has seen much in his short time with the brothers, not to mention his time spent on the Darkside, that this sparked only that minuet reaction.

Within Jeff's mind a war was being waged. He was not aware of the combatants or whose side he should be supporting, but it raged nonetheless. All the young man knew was pain, pain and an undefined sense of urgency. All Glen knew was a need to save the young man before him, not that those were conscious thoughts, but it was a driving force.

Slowly, painstakingly so, the red mote that was Glen's power in Jeff's mind, moved forward, and as it went fortifications built up about the subconscious of young Jeff. Memories were pushed aside, thoughts, that were foreign to the young man fell back behind barriers few would be able to breach; and only if they new they were there and how to bring them down. Without knowing, somehow Glen knew that he was shoving the answers to all their questions far down into the mind of the young Hardy, but it was the task he has set for himself and it was past the point of no return. If the answers were ever to be had, they would not come from this source.

Outside of the embattled mind of his brother, Matt could tell something was changing. Jeff was suddenly breathing with much more ease, the tenseness in his body had diminished and the older man could tell the pain was subsiding; whatever it was Glen had done, he know he could never repay. It seemed, to him, he owed a great deal to the Brothers of Destruction. He watched as the glow from Glen's hands slowly dimmed then ceased altogether, as he felt his brother's breathing return to a normal rhythm with a small sigh as if, even unconscious knew his time of torment was at an end.

"He'll be ok now" came the rough, weak exhausted voice from his side. He looked up at Glen, looking into the older man's eyes and feeling a great gratitude and new respect for this man. It suddenly occurred to the older Hardy brother that Mark was not the only one of the two brothers with a sacrificing soul. Over the last year he had seen Mark perform many acts of kindness and compassion many in this world would be shocked the Deadman could be capable of, and now he sees it runs in their family.

"I'll get him back in bed, and you had best do the same," Matt says as he stands lifting his brother onto the bed, as best he could with the near dead weight, "I'll go out and get the stuff we need to find Mark, you need to rest and so does my brother."

Glen sighs, and stands shakily, what he had done had drained him badly and even though he wanted to protest Matt's suggestion, common sense told him the young man was right, besides, he reasoned, what had to be done, needed all of them at full strength. "Fine, I'll make a list, you have to get everything on it, ok."

Glen went to the table to jot down a few things on the pad there, handing the finished list to the smaller man with a sigh as he made his way slowly to his bed and nearly fell down on top of it. "Don't forget anything on that list, we need them all." That was the last thing he said before darkness took him.

In New York Mark, now known as Tani, is busy setting a large box on a shelf as Asha watches him with approving eyes. She pats his large arm reassuringly once he has done his task, "Thanks Tani, been wanting that box out of the way for ages." She turns and heads over to one of the large tables that is currently strewn with books and takes a seat. "Well come on, you said you'd help me with the translations on this one."

"Ok, ok, hold your horses, your worse then Ken sometimes" With a smirk Mark walks over and takes a seat on the chair next to the young woman, "Ok, where were we?" He looks to the passage she is pointing to and nods, "Unei…Sosu…Kojai….Unnijazuk. There is no direct translation to English, but what it means is 'The Stars Fall as the Will sees the sun." He chuckles as he sees the sour look she gives him.

"You call that a translation, it means as much to me as the original words" she pokes Mark in the arm lightly and pouts fluttering her eyes a bit, knowing it really has no effect on him, "Come on Tani, can you make it a bit more understandable for little ol me?"

Mark shakes his head at her, over the top, attempt to cajole him and sighs while tugging at her ear lobe a habit he had developed over the 2 weeks he has been with the group. "You know that won't work on me little girl, and the really really simple translation is 'Once the power in you is strong, then your power over the world well be stronger' and that is really the simplest I can make it fer ya."

Asha loves when his southern drawl peeks out when he speaks, it's not something he is conscious of doing, it seems to emerge when he is most relaxed, which seems to be more and more these days. She tries to ignore the fact that his accent is not the only thing about the man she loves. Though he is much older then her, and according to Ken, even more so then the obvious years that have settled on his face, she finds something about him, an aura that seems to hug him like a second skin that has her wanting to be near him whenever time permits. For a while she was afraid she was under a spell or a curse, that came with their summoning the giant of a man, but then she had to admit to herself that it was just plain human attraction. Nothing would come of it, she was no fool in that department, but still, there was no harm in daydreaming of what it would be like to be in this man's life forever.

Mark quickly turned his attention back to the book as he went about translating more of it for the woman at his side, doing his best to hide the warmth in his cheeks that threatened to reveal he can hear every thought Asha is having. The fact they all are directed towards him is a bit unnerving. It is not that she is attracted to him that has him unsettled, he feels nothing either way in that regards, but that he can hear her private thoughts and no matter what he tries he can not seem to block them out, making him feel like an intruder in a place he does not belong. Her intimate thoughts are her own and he has no rights to them. It is just another aspect of himself that troubles him greatly. From not knowing his own name, to not knowing where he comes from, he finds in his short known life he already feels a stranger. Even the fact he is not devoid of knowledge of the world bothers him. It tells him that he is no stranger to the world, that he must have had a life before he appeared in groups loft, yet he remembers none of it, not a nagging itch, not a odd feeling. There is nothing there to tell him who he is, or where he comes from.

Asha sees the crease settle on her new friend's brow and knows he is lost in his on thoughts, thoughts that tend to be about his origin. She looks down sadly, wishing beyond anything she could help him. Even if it means it would take him away from her, she would rather see him happy knowing who he was, then seeing him torn apart with not knowing. She glances over to a corner where Sam is sitting at a computer, then back to the other end of the table, they sit at, where Ken is looking through the book that brought Tani here in the first place. The three agree they have to find out who he is, while also figuring out how he will lead them to the power they seek; thought, at the moment, all Asha wishes is for Tani to be whole and happy once more.

"Holy Shit!" Sam exclaims from where he sits in front of the computer, startling all the others.

"What is it man?" Asks Ken as he rises to walk over to Sam.

Asha is about to follow then decides they can let her know what Sam had found as Mark give her the next translation, so she does not see the look that her two oldest friends shoot in the direction of the man at her side.

Ken and Sam, seeing neither saw their actions lean close together whispering so their voices do not carry.

"Dude, what do we do now?" this from a noticeably unsettled Sam.

"You're asking me? I wasn't expecting this." He looks once more over to Mark and Asha, "If he finds out he's gone, if we keep it from him and he finds out, we're gone"

"But we need him, you said you were certain of that, from what you read and what he was able to translate for you." Comes back Sam, "If we lose him now, we can kiss the power goodbye"

Ken nods, and sighs, reaching over and closing the page that Sam had opened, "We say nothing" he glances over to Asha, "Don't tell Asha either, I think she's got a thing for him and might want to tell him just to make him happy."

With that the older man walks back to his seat flashing a slight smile to Mark and Asha, as Sam leaves the computer and moves to a couch to watch TV.

"What was that all about Ken" asks Asha as she looks up to see Ken back with his book.

"Huh? Oh with Sam, he uh, hit a link to an occult site that did not lead there, but to a porn site, a very graphic porn site." He hated being duplicitous with the girl, but he had no choice he had to keep 'Tani' with them till he could figure out how World Wrestling Entertainment wrestler The Undertaker was connected to ancient magic powers.


End file.
